Purple Milk
by EqualityDork
Summary: Moriarty gets a little bored after TGG and comes up with something more fun, like screwing with John by paying his goons to rape him, but that's not the end of it. It's up to Sherlock to see if he can piece John back together faster than Moriarty is tearing him down. -I've never been good at summaries Sherlock/John
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi everyone! Warning: Some graphic content involving rape, it's short but it's still there so you have been warned! Hope you like it! **

**-0.0- **

"Sherlock!? Why is the milk purple?" John shouted from his position in the kitchen, his eyes focused on the florescent liquid as he held the refrigerator door open.

"Experiment." Was the one word reply the doctor received from the detective currently sprawled out across the couch.

John stared down at the tinted liquid while several slow, hazy, thoughts buzzed around in his head, one of which being his already poured bowl of cereal.

"Can I drink it?" He suddenly asked, much too tired to run down to the store and buy a new one.

"What-? No! It's _purple_!" Sherlock quipped as he leaped off of the couch and ran into the kitchen, confiscating the liquid from the doctor before quickly pouring it down the drain- just in case his flat mate got any ideas.

"Given the shade it would have killed you instantly should you have taken a sip." The genius explained to the groggy "not genius".

"Ah, yes, and I was just supposed to magically know that now, was I?" John asked as he rubbed his temples. It was far too early for this, he hadn't even gotten his morning cuppa yet.

"Magically? No, of course not- no such thing exists. I may have expected you to use a bit more common sense, though." Sherlock hissed, pulling the now empty carton closer to his chest as if it could still kill his unobservant flat mate.

"It could have just been food coloring or something!" John defended as he closed the fridge door, deciding there was nothing of interest left in it.

"Yes, John, because I just love to put food coloring in milk. And here I was beginning to worry you were an idiot-"

"Yes, yes, alright- I get it." The doctor cut in, raising his hands in mock surrender.

"I'm going out to get a new carton. I'll be back in a bit" John yawned out as he pulled on his jacket and slid on his shoes.

Sherlock promptly went over to fall back into his prior position on the couch, his eyes falling closed as he quickly hissed, "Try not to kill yourself"

The doctor raised his hand and opened his mouth as if he were to make a retort, then suddenly decided against it and waved dismissively at the supposed sociopath.

Closing the door shut behind himself, John descended down the stairs, accidentally running into Mrs. Hudson as she began her way up.

"Where are you heading off to so early?" She inquired, tilting her body back ever so slightly so that the doctor could slide his way passed.

"I, have to get more milk because _someone_ turned the other one into a deadly poison." John groaned in frustration as he swung the front door open to reveal the bright and early streets of London, making the tired doctor wince as his eyes tried to adjust.

"Oh dear..." Mrs. Hudson mumbled just as John waved his goodbye's and stepped out into the streets.

The landlady quickly hurried up the steps, knocking on the door twice before opening it to reveal a dramatic Sherlock draped across the furniture.

"I ran into John on the way up... a bit put off by, what was it? Poisonous milk, perhaps?" She tutted while subconsciously organizing a stack of papers that had fallen onto the floor god knows when.

Could have been five minutes ago, could have been a week ago, whenever it was, it had already been long forgotten.

"Hardly my fault he thinks purple milk is safe to drink." Sherlock grumbled from the couch.

Mrs. Hudson paused mid-movement before shaking her head and continuing to clean.

"I understand deary, you're worried about him is all." She concludes, setting the stack of papers neatly back on the table.

"Don't be ridiculous! I'm not _worried_" Sherlock scoffed, suddenly finding the act of sitting still unbearable so he began to fidget.

"It's perfectly normal, Sherlock, just be sure to let him breathe, yeah?" Mrs. Hudson continued to say, completely ignoring the previous interjection from the detective currently tapping his foot repeatedly on the living room floor.

"If anyone's worried here it's you- fiddling around nervously- clearly you haven't been sleeping well either- don't even get me started on your nail biting-"

"John's a good man." The land lady piped in, cutting off the others deductions.

Slightly taken aback, Sherlock stopped moving his leg and instead began trying to predict where this conversation was headed. "Obviously." He replied, Mrs. Hudson's fact being just that, an obvious fact about his flat mate John Hamish Watson.

"Ever since the pool incident you two seem to be fighting much more... I'd hate to see the two of you split up..." Mrs. Hudson confessed as she pushed the chair properly into the desk and let her fingers hesitate for a moment along the soft material.

"Don't be so dull. I'm not going to kick him out just because he was kidnapped by Moriarty." Sherlock deadpanned before pushing his body back up against the couch.

"Perhaps not... but sometimes while protecting someone you accidentally push them away..."

"If I had wanted you're advice I would have asked for it." Sherlock seethed, his hands pressed together and set under his chin as he started at nothing and yet everything all at once.

"Then at least try not to be his cause of death" Mrs. Hudson advised just before leaving through the still open doorway without so much as a farewell.

With furrowed eyebrows, Sherlock began to tap the pads of his fingers against one another in contemplation until finally deciding to pull out his cell phone and send off a quick text.

_It has come to my attention that perhaps I may have been out of line. I'm sorry- SH_

With an exasperated sigh, Sherlock held the phone between both of his hands and pressed them against his lips as he continued to analyze the last several weeks.

-0.0-

John didn't hear as his phone went off due to his muffled screams.

The ex-army doctor kicked and squirmed against his captors- one of which threatened to break his arms with his hold while the other removed John's belt.

The doctor's mouth was covered in duck tape, muffling any and all noises of protest and pleas from the man.

He hadn't gotten two blocks from baker street when he was attacked by the two men who dragged him into one of the adjacent buildings.

"Stop moving or I'll break your right arm." The man holding him from behind warned while the other tugged down John's pants.

As the man tried to pull off the doctor's boxers, John immediately kneed him in the gut, sending the bastard to the ground.

In response, the man behind him tightened his grip, causing the captive to shout out against the duck tape.

"You fucker." The man currently standing back up grumbled, followed by roughly pulling off the doctor's boxers and tossing them with his shoes and jeans.

John felt helpless and paralyzed as his legs were thrown over two sturdy shoulders, knowing that any rough movement would cause his arms to either snap and/or dislocate.

A finger prodded at his entrance and John's eyes widened, completely immobile due to the man holding him from behind.

"Let's get this over with and collect our money, yeah?" The man from behind suggested.

"Right." The man in front confirmed, immediately removing his finger and instead beginning to work at his zipper.

John immediately started squirming again in panic, only stopping as a jolt of pain shot up his arm from twisting it the wrong way thanks to the grip he was in.

The doctor felt tears prick at his eyes as something large, warm, and sticky aligned itself with him.

John whimpered at the intrusion, biting his tongue as he felt himself rip apart.

Nonetheless, the ex-army doctor rested there limp and helpless as he was pounded into by the other man.

John closed his eyes and waited for it all to end, almost thankful when he felt his rapist release inside of him.

With an ecstatic smile, the other man pulled out and zipped himself up before dropping the short man's legs off of his shoulders.

"Moriarty said to make sure he doesn't leave for the next few hours. Hit him hard." The man from behind ordered.

John jerked up at the familiar name, only to black out a second later as a fist collided with his eye.

-0.0-

"An _experiment_! This was all just some _experiment_ to see how long it would take me to realize John was in danger and how quickly I could find him, Leastrade!"

"Calm down, Sherlock."

Familiar voices echoed in the dark of John's slowly awakening consciousness.

"How can _you_ be so calm, Greysmere!? This isn't just some game anymore! This is _revolting_!" Sherlock yelled into the D.I.'s face.

"Sh-sherlock...?" John mumbled as he blinked his eyes open, vaguely noticing that one of which were swollen.

"Sherlock?" He asked again into the sudden silence as he began to try and look around, stopping the painful movement only when the consulting detective rushed over to his bedside and scanned the doctor over with his calculating gaze.

"I'm here, John..."

John gave a small sad smile to the detective upon seeing him, now suddenly very aware of where he was, the all too familiar aroma of a hospital giving that away as he sank back into his bed and reached for the button he knew would raise the bed so he could look around.

"How did I get here, again..?" John asked as he observed his heart monitor and tried to make sense of his blurry memories.

"How are you feeling?" Sherlock asked, completely ignoring his friend's question and instead deeming his own much more important.

Upon receiving only an impatient glare in response, Sherlock took it upon himself to check for any signs of discomfort, allowing his hands to skim over John's body, searching for tension and any sign of damage.

The ex-army doctor let out a small yelp when his right arm was grabbed and immediately Sherlock retracted, very aware that there must be some nasty bruising hidden under the loose cotton sheets.

"Umm.. John, I'm going to go fetch a nurse and then, if you're ready, I'd like to ask you a few questions..." Greg piped in awkwardly, his face looking almost as if he were the one sitting in the hospital bed.

"For god's sake- give the man a break." Sherlock hissed, subconsciously leaning closer to his flat mate.

"No- no.. It's fine. I want to get this over with.." John confessed with a heavy sigh as he ignored the dull achy pain from his left eye, arms, hips, and back side.

"Alright, I'll be back in a minute" Lestrade coughed out uncomfortably, taking his leave with one last sorrowful glance at his hospitalized friend he had been at the bar with not two nights ago.

"So... Moriarty?" John asked as his foggy memory began to clear, remembering one of his captors mention the name.

Sherlock visibly flinched, his eyes cast downward at the doctor's right arm as it released itself from the restraints of the sheet. John quickly noticed the purple bruising along his right shoulder and immediately went to stuff it back under the covers, only to have Sherlock reach out and stop it by grabbing his hand.

"He was umm..." The detective stopped briefly to clear his throat as he gazed upon their intertwined hands, desperate to stop John from feeling like he had to hide things.

"He was conducting an experiment.. How long it would take me to find you... that sort of thing.." Sherlock risked a glance up at John, who was now casually staring out the window beside his bed with a far out look on his face.

The doctor must have sensed eyes on him because he immediately turned his head to meet the detectives gaze.

Sherlock promptly dropped his eyes down to their hands again, using his thumb to brush over John's knuckles.

"I'm sorry..." He mumbled, refusing to make eye contact with the smaller man.

A sharp laugh released itself from John's throat, catching the detectives attention as the doctor gripped icy fingers tighter, no doubt not realizing this subtle action.

"Why is that funny?" Sherlock inquired, narrowing his eyes to search for the answer on John's face.

"You never apologize unless someone forces you too" The doctor explained with a soft chuckle.

"Well obviously, I do." Sherlock retorted a bit defensively without meaning to.

"Apology not accepted." John grumbled despite the ever present grin across his lips.

Sherlock scowled back and furrowed his brows, leaning even closer to the patient as he got down on his knees so that he was eye level with the blonde.

"You can't _decline_ my apology!" He protested as he used his free hand to join their intertwined ones.

"Well _obviously,_ I can." The doctor replied smugly, watching triumphantly as revelation devoured the consulting detective's features.

"How are you feeling, Dr. Watson?" A nurse asked upon suddenly walking into the room, catching said doctor off guard and by the looks of it the detective, too.

"Oh, well, I'm fine, just fine, thank you" He responded quickly, not giving his answer much thought since, no, no one is ever _fine_ after something like that.

"Alright, John, are you ready?" Lestrade asked as he walked into the room with a pen and paper. It was then that this all became very... real, for the doctor.

-0.0-

The next few days went by fairly smoothly, John answered questions, changed his bandages, and all the while Sherlock wouldn't let go of his hand until finally John had to shoo him away for some privacy in the restroom.

"Sherlock, don't you have something else to do? Like, I don't know, solve a murder or something?" John asked rather casually after looking up from his newspaper for the fifth time only to find Sherlock still staring at him and holding his hand.

The detective didn't respond, instead simply continued to stare at his flat mate with unwavering eyes.

Deciding two could play at that game, John let his newspaper fold into itself after letting go of it with the hand currently joined with Sherlock's.

Scrunching his nose, John narrowed his eyes and stared back into light blue.

After several minutes of staring, John finally blinked and had to rub at his dry eyes. "Alright, fine, I give up, what do you want?" The doctor asked in defeat as he raised with free hand up in surrender, then leaned back into his bed and folded his arms under the one Sherlock refused to let go of.

Yet still, no response.

"Alright, you're really starting to freak me out now, Sherlock.." John confessed with raised eyebrows as he cleared his throat awkwardly and went back to leaning forward over toward his apparently paralyzed friend.

"Hello? Anybody in there? Have you gotten.. lost, in your mind palace or something..?" John asked as he waved his left hand quickly in front of Sherlock's face a few times, even snapping once or twice in an attempt to get a reaction out of the other man.

"John!" Sherlock suddenly exclaimed, jumping forward in his chair and pulling John's forehead up against his own with his free hand which cupped the doctor's cheek and jaw line.

Said doctor stared with wide, startled eyes as all of a sudden the only thing in his vision was very close bright blue.

"I've figured out how I can still hold your hand while you use the restroom, yet still giving you your privacy!"

"That's... what you've been thinking about... this whole time? Just sitting there.. thinking about toilets and hand holding?" John asked in disbelief as he shifted his eye sight from one pool of blue to the next, and back.

"Of course I would need to make some modifications to the door, nothing too dramatic, though, I'm sure Mrs. Hudson won't mind-"

"Sherlock. I don't care if Mrs. Hudson minds or not, you are not following me into the bathroom, do you understand?" John said sternly as he raised his hand up to move with his words as if scolding a child.

"What if I-"

"No"

"But-"

"No, Sherlock, I mean it."

The consulting detective scrunched his face up and leaned back in his chair, a look of childish disappointment written all across his face.

Leaning cautiously back into the bed, John gave Sherlock one last glance before unfolding his newspaper and getting back to the latest events.

Shortly after, a few soft knocks tapped on the door just as one of the nurses walked into the room holding a clip board and pen.

"Excuse me, Dr. Watson, your test results are in. As far as we can tell you're free of all STDs and you can be released just as soon as you sign these papers!" The girl announced with a smile as she handed the clipboard and pen over to John, only to have Sherlock snatch it from them both.

"What are you doing, Sherlock? Give that back!" John protested as he tried to reach for the board, only to have Sherlock shift out of reach as he read through the documents.

"Why would I do such a thing? I'm your personal representative, therefore, you have given me full right to look through these" Sherlock quipped, meanwhile the nurse decided it'd be best to just leave and not get stuck in the middle of another one of their bickering battles like she had made the mistake of doing earlier.

"What? Since when?" John scoffed as he attempted to tug Sherlock closer so he could grab the papers back.

"Since you signed the papers for it nearly three months ago, do keep up"

"I think I would remember signing off on having _you_, of all people, as my personal representative!"

"Stamford."

John immediately stopped his struggling upon the mention of his friend's name. "What?" He asked, lost as to how Mike related to all of this.

"You spent the night out with Stamford and when you got back I asked you to sign the papers." Sherlock explained as he struggled to flip to the next page without the use of his other hand.

"You had me sign official documents while I was _drunk_!?" John seethed at the back of Sherlock's head.

"Oh please, now you're going to complain about the _immorality_ of it all, aren't you?" The consulting detective groaned as he rolled his eyes despite knowing full well that John couldn't see it.

"A bit, yeah!"

"Would you stop fussing if I revoked myself as your personal representative?" Sherlock inquired as he glanced back at the frowning doctor.

"Depends. What other documents have you had me sign without realizing it?" John asked, suddenly worried as he let go of Sherlock's hand and stared directly into a mix of light blue, green, and a small flicker of gold.

"...I don't want to talk about it." Sherlock decided as he used this opportunity to sign off on the papers, officially releasing John from the hospital's care.

"Oh my go- Sherlock! That is _not_ okay!" John growled in frustration at his flat mate who simply waved him off and mumbled something about drinking purple milk not being okay.

"Are you even listening to me? Do you _ever_ , actually listen to me?" John asked, followed by biting his lip and sucking in a few deep breaths just as Sherlock tossed him the clipboard of signed papers.

"Of course I listen to you, John, don't be absurd." Sherlock groaned as he stood to straighten his coat and readjust his scarf, holding a hand out for a grumbling John immediately afterward.

"Could have fooled me" John grumbled back as he made a point to avoid the other man's hand in favor of getting up by himself to prove he wasn't completely helpless.

"Please, John..." Sherlock said softly as he continued to hold out his hand despite the smaller man already having stood.

Realizing it was more for Sherlock's sake than his own, John gently laced his fingers with the detectives as if to assure him that he was safe and wasn't going anywhere.

"John.."

"Yeah, Sherlock?"

"You didn't read through the release forms"

"Shut up, I trust you."

Sherlock promptly looked down at the smaller man, that of whom looked obliviously around the room for where the nurse had put his regular street clothes.

"Restroom sink" Sherlock answered the unasked question, still finding himself staring at the doctor as he observed the shorter man's eyes light up and shoot toward the restroom.

"Ah, right! Thank you"

John went to move forward and release Sherlock's hand, only for the consulting detective to follow in suit, their hands still connected.

"_Really_, Sherlock!? We are _not_ going through this again!"

**-0.0-**

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Next chapter should be up shortly, hope you like it! Reviews are appriciated, along with questions, comments, and concerns!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hi guys! Umm, this chapter is more... I don't know, serious, for the most part? Sad, maybe? Not really sure what to call it but's here! Hope you enjoy it!**

**-0.0-**

Twenty minutes later Sherlock and John were sitting in the back of a taxi on their way back to Baker street. John casually watched the world pass by through his window as he kept his arms folded across his chest. Meanwhile, Sherlock kept glancing at the ex-army doctor, an ice pack pressed against his face where there was bruising.

"...I still don't understand why you had to hit me."

"Yeah? Well, there are a lot of social concepts you don't understand, like when to let someone change clothes in _peace_." John pointed out while glancing back at the detective who was now facing the doctor.

"It's not like I haven't seen you na-"

"When the _hell_ could you have _possibly_ seen me naked!?" John fumed, now face to face with Sherlock.

"Harriet sent me some of your infant photographs last Christmas, you remember that, you confiscated them before I could look through them all."

"_This_, right here, is why people always think we're a couple! You don't-" John cut himself off to take a deep breath, followed by crossing his arms and looking out the window again.

Confused, Sherlock also turned to look out his own window, using the faded reflection to inspect his wound. It wasn't bad, clearly John avoided anything that would cause long term damage.

The taxi stopped and immediately, John stepped out and stormed in through the front door and up to their flat.

Sherlock watched him go, not even turning back to pay the taxi driver, instead he simply threw the money in the cab and followed the shorter man through the open doors.

Upon reaching the stairs, the detective noticed a familiar scent and froze. It was faint, but it was definitely chlorine.

"John-" Sherlock began to say as he hopped into the main floor of their flat. He stopped, however, when he noticed Moriarty sitting casually in John's chair while two of his goons restrained the ex-army doctor.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked hastily, stepping forward just a step until the bigger of the two goons took over in holding John, shifting his position so that he could easily snap one of the doctor's arms or neck if he chose to do so.

"Most people say hello before asking how one's doing but I'm fine, really. Cozy chair, don't you think, Dr. Watson?" Moriarty chimed, a grin spread across his lips as the smaller goon placed a piece of duck tape over John's mouth.

"What's the matter Johnny boy? Didn't you have fun last time~?" Moriarty cooed innocently as the smaller of his employees went to stand by the window.

"Why are you here? Another _experiment_?" Sherlock seethed as he glanced back and forth from John to the consulting criminal.

"Didn't have enough fun the other day?" Sherlock probed while slowly taking several steps across the room in a diagonal pattern.

"Well, now that you mention it.. no, I didn't really. Don't get me wrong, Johnny boy I heard you were _fantastic_! I just wanted to see it for myself" Jim grinned from ear to ear as he stood from the chair and traced the back of his hand along the side of John's face.

Sherlock promptly dashed forward, the sound of a gun cocking back making him hesitate as the smaller goon pointed it at his head. Frustrated, Sherlock raised his hands up and onto the back of his head, his eyes fixated on John's as the doctor kept a blank expression.

"Bad dog! Down! Rhoof!" Moriarty teased while pointing at Sherlock in a scolding manner before returning his attention to the doctor.

"How are you _feeling_, John?" Moriarty asked as he ran his fingers through short blonde hair.

"I hope you're as ecstatic as I am" He breathed, yanking at the doctor's hair so that their foreheads were touching.

"Oh my! Just this is getting me all hot and bothered!" Moriarty proclaimed just before giving John a big kiss over the duck tape. "Too bad this is just a prelude... Don't worry Johnny boy, Sherlock, we'll be back soon enough. Just wanted to give you a hint as to what's, in, your, future. _Lots_ to look forward to!"

The consulting criminal quickly spun around to face Sherlock with a sadistic smile. "It's inevitable, Sherlock... your toy has been broken. How much longer do you think it'll be before he completely shuts down? I'll keep the clock running for you"

Moriarty skipped happily past the detective and out the door, snapping his fingers shortly after to signal his goons to follow.

The bigger man dropped John onto the floor ruthlessly before walking over to the one with the gun still pointed at Sherlock. The two then walked out the door together and closed it almost politely behind them.

As quickly as humanly possible Sherlock scurried over to his smaller companion and gently peeled the duck tape off of John's mouth.

The doctor immediately took in several deep breathes as he positioned himself upright against the bookshelf. "Are you alright?" Sherlock asked again, this time without John being restrained.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine" John quickly breathed out as he waved his hand dismissively.

"No. John..." Sherlock whispered, lifting his hand to cup John's cheek and jawline while gently turning the doctor's head so that they were looking directly at one another. "Are you alright?" He tried again while looking directly into John's eyes.

John sucked in a deep breathe and closed his eyes, letting out slowly as Sherlock waited impatiently for an honest answer.

"No" The doctor said shortly as he re-opened his eyes and looked into bright blue. "No, I'm not alright" He said in a whisper, his voice oddly strong despite his body starting to shake.

"John..." Sherlock said softly as he ran his thumb along the smooth skin of the doctor's cheek, uncertain of what he was supposed to do in a situation like this.

Taking in a shaky breathe, John willed himself to calm down and nodded curtly before rising up to his feet.

Sherlock quickly followed in suit, his arms reaching out to grab at the sides of John's arms, worried the smaller man might lose his balance and fall unexpectedly at any moment.

"John, you should sit back down.." Sherlock advised, his eye sight immediately finding John's chair and he scowled, they would have to burn it now.

"No, I... I'm going to go upstairs.. I need a moment to myself, please.." John said slowly and quietly as he gently brushed the detective's hands away.

"John-"

"_Please_" John tried again, his voice cracking ever so slightly at the end as he refused to look anywhere but forward, where the now closed door was.

"Alright..." Sherlock gave in reluctantly, allowing the doctor to walk away from him and up to the confines of his own room.

-0.0-

Sherlock paced for what felt like hours as he waited for John's "moment" to himself to end.

He paced, he waited, and he listened intently, not sure whether to be worried or relieved when the sound of sobs never came.

John had been an army doctor, so he knew how to push fears away, but that wasn't always the healthiest thing to do.

Especially when it's something like this.

However, Sherlock stayed true to his word and gave the doctor time to himself, no matter how agonizing the minutes that passed were to the consulting detective.

Finally, after what had apparently only been twenty minutes, Sherlock heard the door to John's room creak open and he froze, his eyes glued to the doorway as he listened to John descend the stairs.

Slowly, John pushed open the door, unsurprised to find Sherlock watching him like a hawk from the middle of the living room. "I'm going out for a drink" John announced, his voice even and posture proper as he reached for the closet door to pull out his coat.

"Don't." Sherlock said sternly, his voice clear and firm.

Having been caught off guard, John indeed stopped his reach for the closet and instead looked over at his flat mate with confused and tired eyes.

"Why not?" John asked skeptically as he analyzed the door, suddenly worried he might find some decapitated bloke hidden in their closet.

"Please.. Don't." Sherlock practically pleaded as he took several strides forward, blocking John from the closet and in doing so getting a little too far into the doctor's personal space, which then caused John to take a step back so that he could look at the taller man without craning his neck.

"Sherlock, I'm not a mind reader, do you need something or are you just being an arse?" John asked with a heavy sigh as he rubbed at the bridge of his nose in growing frustration. All he wanted was a drink, he didn't have the patience for one of Sherlock's _moods_ right now.

"John... alcohol is only going to make things worse" Sherlock said calmly as he kept his gaze fixated on John, who then scoffed.

"Oh, yes, I forgot, drug addiction is the better option." John hissed venomously as he took a step closer to the taller man, who in return didn't budge but instead tilted his chin to look down at the shorter man.

"John.. you're the doctor... you know I'm right, this is exactly what Moriarty wants" Sherlock explained rationally despite the anger that swelled up inside the shorter man.

He knew Sherlock was right, of course he did, but he couldn't help himself, he needed to forget about what happened, and about what he knew was going to happen sooner or later.

"I'll take my chances."

With that, John attempted to walk past the detective, only to have Sherlock stop him by grabbing his arm and forcing him up against the adjacent wall.

"I'm not going to let you turn into your sister." Sherlock promised as he cornered the smaller man up against the wall, using his height to his advantage as he towered over the smaller man, refusing to budge as John pushed against his chest.

"Bloody hell, Sherlock, all I want is one night out, I go to the pub with Stamford and Scotland Yard all the time, why should this be any different?" John grumbled in annoyance as his frustration peaked, the taller man clearly having the advantage.

"John, I'm asking nicely. Please don't go." Sherlock tried again as he stood strong, using the wall for balance as the doctor continued to try and shove him away.

"And I am asking you nicely- Please let me go." John bit back as he finally got his full body into the push, knocking Sherlock off balance only to have the detective pull the struggling doctor down with him.

"Damn it, Sherlo-" John cut himself off as an overwhelming sense of panic invaded his senses.

Sherlock lay on top of him, having fallen as such, his hands on either side of the smaller man as he attempted to regain his composure despite some of his weight still pinning down the doctor below him.

"John, listen to me. You- ...John?"

Sherlock looked down at the man below him who had his knees raised on either side of the detective, placing them in a rather compromising position as John started struggling to breath.

He knew it was only Sherlock. He knew he was safe, Sherlock wasn't going to do anything. So why couldn't he breathe?

As fast as he possibly could, Sherlock jumped off of the doctor and scrambled to his side as John sat up and gripped his chest as if it would help the oxygen flow to his lungs.

"Breath, John- just breath" Sherlock instructed as he reached out to grab the other man, instantly pulling back as John flinched in response.

"I'm trying" John grunted out through his shallow breathes, the weight of the stranger slamming against him repeatedly still stuck in his mind despite his attempts to block it out. The strong hold on his waist and especially arms, threatening to snap them if he so much as twitched the wrong way making him panic further.

"You're alright, John.. you're safe now, I'm not going to hurt you, I promise" Sherlock tried, saying anything he could think of at the moment, which was surprisingly little compared to what usually flowed through his genius mind.

"I know, I know" John said with a heavy huff as his heart rate started to calm down and his breathing became less forced and more natural.

"Oh god..." He wheezed as he clamped his eyes shut and tilted his head down, realizing just how broken he truly was. It wouldn't take much for Moriarty to get him to stop working altogether, that much was sure, and the thought was horrifying.

"John... Can I...?" Sherlock said softly beside him as he hovered his hand over John's and waited for a response.

Confused, John looked over at Sherlock, momentarily getting caught in his gaze before looking down and noticing his pale hand floating just slightly above his own.

Without looking up, John lifted his hand and interlocked it with Sherlock's, his nerves stimulating at the gentle touch.

Faintly, John could hear Sherlock's sigh of relief as they joined hands, however he couldn't bring himself to look up at his friend, too ashamed of how pathetic he must have looked.

"I'm sorry..." Sherlock said softly, giving John the courage to look up at him only to find the detective's eyes focused elsewhere, seemingly at a distant point on the floor.

"Why- why are _you_ sorry?" The doctor asked, his brows furrowed as he inhaled and exhaled deep breathes, finding the open airway calming.

"This is all my fault... I provoked him, brought this upon you all because I can't help showing off..."

John let out a breathy laugh and gave Sherlock's hand a little squeeze, giving the detective the reassurance he needed to meet John's eyes.

"You're a drama queen, alright- but this would have happened regardless, if anything he provoked you with all of his little puzzles." John explained honestly before leaning back a little and looking up at the ceiling with a heavy sigh.

"John..." Sherlock whispered, catching said doctor's attention as he glanced over at his flat mate through the corner of his eye with raised eyebrows.

"After this... please promise me you won't shut me out.."

The detective stared at their intertwined hands with a frown, he knew how the majority of the population responded to these kinds of assaults. He knew the phases, he knew the results, but still... if anyone could break the cycle it would be him and John..

"Never" John promised firmly as he raised their interlocked hands and met Sherlock's gaze. "I will never shut you out, Sherlock"

Sherlock opened his mouth as if to say something, then quickly closed it again as he looked down at John's left shoulder, vaguely aware that there was a scar there as he drooped his forehead up against it and reached upwith his free hand to entangle it in the doctor's jumper. The detective sat there in content as he breathed in the doctor's scent and listened for John's heart beat, his own matching the rhythm.

John looked down at the mess of curls and frowned, realizing for the first time how much he meant to the supposed sociopath. Without him, Sherlock was back to being alone in this flat with his skull and drug addiction.

No, John reassured himself, even _if_ something were to happen to him, Sherlock would still have Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Mycroft, Molly... He would be fine...

With that thought, John slid on a small smile and rested the side of his face among the uncontrollable curls of the consulting detective's hair. He didn't need to worry about Sherlock, no matter what happened with this whole Moriarty situation, if John somehow broke beyond repair, he's certain Sherlock would be taken care of...

"You shouldn't be worrying about _me_, John.." Sherlock grumbled into the doctor's shoulder, that of whom shifted his head to look down at Sherlock's face. Well, what wasn't hidden beneath curls, anyway.

"How-?" John began to ask, only to remember this was Sherlock. "Never mind" He added quickly before the detective could rant off on all of his observations- he was a little too exhausted for all of that just yet.

"You should get some sleep" Sherlock suggested despite refusing to budge from his current position.

"So should you" John pointed out as he gave Sherlock a little nudge with his shoulder.

With a deep breath, Sherlock leaned back and let go of the doctor's jumper. "I'm going to stay up a bit longer" He announced before standing up and pulling the shorter man up with him using their interlocked hands.

"Alright, don't stay up too late" John said with a weak smile as he let go of Sherlock's hand with one last squeeze.

"John-" Sherlock blurted out, stopping himself as he suddenly realized he didn't know what he as going to say.

Clueless to Sherlock's little dilemma, John looked expectantly at the taller man, waiting for him to say or ask something.

"Good night" He finished lamely, frustrated with himself for not remembering why he had called out in the first place.

John, however, seemed to think it an acceptable thing to say at the moment as he smiled, accompanied by a curt nod. "Good night, Sherlock"

At that John turned and walked back the way he had originally came and up the stairs, no longer desperate for intoxication. Instead being rather content in just calling it a night.

Sherlock, on the other hand, stood motionlessly in the living room as he watched and listened to his flat mate work his way up to his bedroom. Once he heard the familiar creak of John's door closing Sherlock spun around and looked accusingly at John's arm chair that had now been tainted. Which then arose the question- how to make it disappear by morning without waking John?

-0.0-

The next morning John stumbled down the stairs, barely managing to catch himself as he reached the living room and wondered on in, paying no attention to the detective sitting on the couch as he made a bee line for the kitchen.

"Didn't sleep well, I take it?" Sherlock asked despite already knowing the answer, the bags under John's eyes having said it all.

"Not a wink..." John replied as he opened the refrigerator to find a fresh carton of milk waiting for him.

Pursing his lips, John closed the fridge door, waited a moment, and then opened it again, surprised to see that there was, in fact, a still sealed jug of milk sitting in their fridge.

Hesitantly, John pulled the carton out and set it on the counter, even more surprised to find an entire new loaf of bread resting next to the nearly empty one.

"Sherlock... Am I hallucinating or is there actually bread and milk, that I didn't go out to buy, in our flat?" John asked carefully as he stared curiously at the grocery items.

"Ahh, yes... I had to go... dispose, of something last night so I took the liberty of picking up a few things while I was out" Sherlock said casually as if it were a normal thing for him to do.

John smiled and let the refrigerator door close on it's own as he walked out into the living room to quietly take a seat beside Sherlock on the couch.

"Sherlock..." He started to say, turning his head to look at the detective who already had his eyes fixated on the smaller man. "I... Thank you. It would have been..." John hesitated to choose his words carefully and let out a breathe he hadn't realized he had been holding. "..Difficult... to go run errands, and also... for last night, thank you for stopping me, I wasn't thinking"

Instead of responding, Sherlock shifted his gaze slowly to the floor, then raised his knees up to his chest and breathed slowly, he didn't feel he deserved a thanks for such mundane tasks, especially errands- he couldn't remember the last time he thanked John for going shopping, it was just how it was. _Was..._

"Really, Sherlock, thank you" John said again with a pat to the detective's knee as he rose to make his morning cuppa, god knows he needed it more than ever.

Then, suddenly, John did a 180 as he looked out at their living room, feeling as if something was missing something... something big... something... obvious...

"My chair is gone." He deadpanned, uncertain of how to feel about it. It was _his_ chair after all.

"Yup" Sherlock popped the "p" as he looked over to where John's chair used to be, still trying to figure out just what to do with the empty space. He wasn't a designer by any means, he much preferred to just let things land wherever they do so land and leave them there. John, on the other hand, liked order, a trait he picked up in the military, no doubt, so Sherlock had to think of _something_ to do with the empty space.

Maybe he could steal a chair from Lestrade's office...

John looked to the empty slot in their living room, to Sherlock, and back, contemplating saying something more about it until he decided he was much too tired to argue about destroying other people's things and waved the thought away. Honestly, he was glad it was gone after the events of yesterday, he just... really did love that chair.

"Do you want a cuppa?" John asked his flat mate as he walked back into the kitchen and started the kettle, adding enough water for the both of them upon Sherlock's grunt of a response.

The detective listened from the couch as John fiddled in the kitchen, grabbing jam, spreading toast, pulling out tea bags, until Sherlock heard a sizzle and a, "Damn it, ow!" from his flat mate and was off the couch and at his side in a heart beat.

"Let me see." Sherlock ordered, startling the shorter man as his hand was suddenly swooped up into Sherlock's calculating gaze.

"It's nothing, Sherlock, just a small burn from the kettle" John explained with an amused smile as he shut off the stove using the hand Sherlock wasn't inspecting.

"I'll get it" The detective proclaimed while grabbing the kettle and bringing it safely out of John's reach and over to the mugs already laid out on one of the counters. In the mean time, John stood dumbly in the middle of the kitchen, watching his flat mate, probably for the first time, trying to make two cuppa's.

"Sherlock.." He said hesitantly with a sigh.

"You should probably run that under cold water, leaving it would-"

"Sherlock." John cut in, this time to make it clear that there were more pressing matters than his 1st degree burn.

Said consulting detective froze in his movements, kettle still part way in the air since he had just poured both cups.

Noticing this, John ran his fingers through his hair with a quick release of air before walking up and touching Sherlock's shoulder, relieved to feel the other man's shoulders relax under his touch.

This time it was Sherlock's time to sigh as he slowly placed the kettle on the counter and turned to look at John almost guiltily, as if he had had his hand in the cookie jar and just gotten caught.

"We need to talk" John confessed as he looked into his flat mate's tired eyes.

"I'm aware"

With that, the two silently agreed to shift to the living room, one on either end of the couch. Sherlock had his knees up to his chest again, while John sprawled comfortably around the corner, his arms spread out as if in a welcoming gesture.

"So... you went out and bought groceries... and now you make tea, hmm?" John said softly as he raised one of his hands to his neck and subconsciously rubbed the skin there.

When Sherlock didn't respond, John tried a light smile and nudged the other man with his foot.

"Just trying to be helpful.." The detective finally said without so much as a glance at the other man.

"Yeah, but you don't _do_ this kind of thing, which means it's because- ...because of what happened..." John pieced together as he sat up from his comfortable position into a more enclosed one with his elbows on his thighs.

"I'm worried." Sherlock confessed quietly, so quietly that John couldn't quite make out the words.

"I'm sorry?" He asked with a glance at Sherlock's hidden face.

"I'm worried!" Sherlock clarified as his whole body seemed to jump out like a jack in the box and spread out among the couch and floor. "Moriarty is capable of anything. I don't know when he's going to try to attack you again, or how, or even _where_. It's frustrating and I just don't _know_." The detective hissed, annoyed with his own incapabilities.

"Sherlock... you don't have to know everything..." John said softly as he looked his friend over, they were both absolute messes, neither looked like they got any sleep the night before, mixed with stress and anxiety- really makes a person look attractive the next morning.

"_This_ I need to know, John. I _have_ to protect you." Sherlock declared as he looked to John with almost pleading eyes, as if he could will him to stay out of harms way.

"You don't have to do anything, I'm a grown man, Sherlock" John tried explaining, only to receive a glare in response.

"Yes, because you've done an impressive job of protecting yourself, haven't you? The pool, purple milk, rape, and even last night you tried to go out and give up in the arms of intoxication!" Sherlock bit back.

John looked slowly over to his hands that were now in his lap and simply breathed, in and out until finally he bit his lip and stood from the couch. "I'm.. going to try and get more sleep" He declared before walking away without another word and leaving Sherlock to fume on the couch by himself.

**-0.0-**

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Sorry if it's a little slow or anything like that! Reviews are appriciated! **

**P.s. I think I fixed most of the breath/breathe errors! Thanks for pointing it out and if anything is bugging anyone else don't be afraid to tell me! **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Plot twist! I think? Maybe? Maybe not, who knows.. should probably figure out what a plot twist is, actually... **

**-0.0-**

Upstairs, John sat on his bed, gun in hand as he looked over the metal slowly.

For god's sake, he was a soldier, he could protect himself. These last few weeks or so have just been... they've been..

John rested his face in his hand and let out a long, shaky breath, his gun a dead weight in his other hand now that he wasn't inspecting it.

Tears pricked at his eyes and he wiped them away before they could fall. No, Sherlock would know and that's the last thing he needs, a genius tearing into his most private matters. He just.. needed _some_ kind of release.

It was with startling realization that the ex-army doctor realized he was now pointing the gun to his temple.

In a swift, panicked, motion, John threw the gun away from himself, watching as it slid across the floor until hitting and slightly bouncing back off of the wall.

John stared at the gun now on the floor with wide eyes- he would never- even the thought was just-

Then he remembered that this was a game. A game that would go on until there was a winner, and let a few tears fall at that, then some more, and more, until he was sobbing into his pillow.

That's just it, isn't it? The only way out...

The game has to end.

-0.0-

Sherlock sat on the couch pouting for a while after John retreated to his room. It was the truth, wasn't it? He couldn't protect himself, it was a fact.

"Stupid John.. he doesn't understand..." He mumbled to himself as he stared at the empty spot in their living room that he really needed to stop focusing on.

The sound of a metal object crashing and sliding against the floor took Sherlock immediately out of his childish tantrum, knowing the only thing in John's room that was metal and that particular weight would be his gun, which must have been thrown given the distance and speed it slid across the floor.

Jumping to attention, Sherlock raced over to the stair well and leaped up to John's bedroom, where he promptly stopped upon hearing the muffled sobs from inside.

"John?" Sherlock asked upon slowly opening the door, immediately noticing how the doctor's sobs choked off.

Weren't people supposed to have company when they're like this? He couldn't remember, exactly...

"John?" He asked again, this time the door fully open as he stood in the hallway, waiting to be acknowledged by his friend and flat mate.

"Go away.." John said as evenly as he could, despite already knowing Sherlock wasn't fooled.

Sherlock looked to the floor and then back up to the ball of John Watson on the bed. "I'd rather stay, if you don't mind" Sherlock said softly as his peripheral vision caught site of the gun he had heard be thrown earlier. Definitely staying, then..

With a sniffle, John sat up in bed, his eyes watery and puffy while the tip of his nose burned a light pink.

Sherlock slowly approached, giving the gun a weary look as he passed it and sat on the bed next to his friend. "John.. I'm sorry... I didn't mean to offend you.." He apologized, keeping his hands to himself despite feeling the urge to reach out and touch the smaller man- he knew he needed at least some space- personal space and all that.

"Don't be.." John said with a small shake to his head, "It's true..""

"John-"

"No. Listen, Sherlock. You're right. That's the whole point of this stupid game, it's inevitable. No matter how much, pepper spray or guns I carry, he's going to find a way to dig under my skin until this game is over."

Sherlock took it upon himself to reach for John's hand, thankful when the other man didn't pull away but instead grabbed back.

The detective let a little smile tug on his lips as he used his other hand to guide John's face toward him so that they were looking directly into one another eyes.

"Then let's change the rules"

John furrowed his eyebrows as he searched within pools of blue in an attempt to make sense of Sherlock's brilliant mind.

"What do you mean, exactly?" The doctor asked when he couldn't find the answer he had been looking for.

"Come on, John. We've got a train to catch" Sherlock didn't explain at all as he jumped to his feet and helped John up onto his own.

"What? Why? Where are we going?" John asked as Sherlock ran over to his closet and pulled out a suitcase, immediately shoving clothes into it while John looked at him with a tiny, confused, smile.

"No time for questions, John, we're leaving the playing board"

"You mean to say we're running away?" John inquired with a quirked eyebrow as Sherlock zipped up the suitcase and began pushing the shorter man through the door way and quickly down the stairs.

"Precisely, we're cheating"

John let out a quick laugh at how brilliant and ridiculous his flat mate was as he was lead into Sherlock's room, where said flat mate began packing up his own suitcase.

"And how long are we going to be gone, exactly?" John asked as he watched Sherlock pile seemingly random clothing into his suitcase despite knowing there must be some logic behind it all.

Sherlock risked a glance up at John and then zipped up his suitcase and walked right up to the doctor, leaning over as he grabbed both of John's arms. "Do you trust me?"

"What? Yes, of course I do" John assured honestly, promptly being released and ushered out of the room afterward as Sherlock dragged along two suit cases.

"Then prove it, don't ask questions" Sherlock challenged as he guided John over to the closet where they grabbed their coats and shoes.

At that, John quickly shut his mouth and did as instructed while Sherlock pushed him in the direction of the door where they then went down the stairs and ran into Mrs. Hudson who had just entered the front door.

"Oh! Are you two boys going off on a romantic vacation?" Mrs. Hudson asked with a cheerful smile as Sherlock grabbed the door with his foot and held it open for John.

"Actually, I'm not sure where I'm going or for how long- if you don't hear from me within the week send out a search party, I've likely been killed by a bored sociopath! And we're not a couple!" John shouted as Sherlock nudged him out into the streets of London.

"Good bye, Mrs. Hudson" Sherlock said with a kiss to her cheek as he followed John out the door and let it fall shut on it's own behind him.

"Taxi!" Sherlock called out with a wave of his baggage holding hand, nonetheless, the taxi stopped, like it always seemed to do for the detective.

"Get in, John"

The doctor wearily got in the back of the taxi while Sherlock talked to the driver, who then placed their bags in the trunk as Sherlock got around on the other side of the cab.

"Are you ever going to tell me where we're going or do I have to figure it out for myself?" John asked as Sherlock pulled out his cell phone.

"I'd like to see you try" Sherlock said with a grin, just as the cab started moving. "Give me your phone"

Slightly taken aback by the request considering Sherlock was already holding his own, John took a few too many seconds to process the demand for Sherlock's liking. Impatiently, Sherlock reached into John's pocket and plucked out the cellular device, throwing it promptly out the window along with his own.

"Wha- hey!" The doctor yelled as he saw his only luxury item tossed out into the streets.

"Can't let them trace us, sorry, it was necessary" Sherlock half apologized as he held out his hand for John to take, which he did, despite his frown.

"You're buying me another one"

Sherlock scoffed, "Obviously"

-0.0-

An hour and fifteen minutes later, the duo was on a train to god knows where with John dozing off and on every couple of minutes as he startled himself awake with images of Moriarty and his employees.

Meanwhile, Sherlock sat beside him using one of the other passenger's phones he had pick pocketed. Of course he was going to give it back, well, that's the deal he made with John, anyway.

After several more failed attempts at falling asleep, John decided it wasn't going to happen and rubbed tiredly at his eyes while trying to sneak a glance at the screen of the stolen phone. Sherlock knew better, though, and shifted it out of John's line of vision.

"You know this train's destination is the middle of no where, right? Please tell me we aren't taking it to the end of the line." John mentioned as he looked out the window, relieved to see they weren't surrounded by country quite yet. He wasn't in the mood for camping.

"Found it" Sherlock mumbled to himself before quickly typing something out on the phone's screen.

"Found _it_? Found what, exactly?" John asked, his curiosity peaked as he tried to sneak another glance at the screen while Sherlock once again successfully dodged his line of sight.

"I thought you said you trust me" Sherlock said coolly as he closed the phone screen, deleted the history, and swiftly slid it back into the other passenger's purse.

"I trust you, alright, but that doesn't stop my curiosity"

The doctor yawned and slid back down into his chair with his arms crossed, exhaustion over powering his body despite knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep.

"In that position, it's no wonder you can't sleep"

"Shut up, Sherlock"

"Even if you could, your back would-"

"Know what? You're right." John quipped as he repositioned himself so that Sherlock was now a makeshift pillow as he leaned against the surprisingly comfortable taller man.

"Happy now?" The doctor asked as his eyes drifted closed, his will power and discomfort suddenly vanishing as his breathing became steadier and consciousness slowly left him.

Sherlock's lips twitched upward as he looked down at his sleeping companion, pleased to know he finally fell asleep without a scowl on his face, which meant so far so good as far as nightmares were concerned.

However, Sherlock didn't dare fall asleep just yet. He knew he couldn't until they were in the clear, which wasn't for a while to come.

So the train carried on, stopping every now and again to let off and on passengers until finally it reached their stop, just outside of Sussex South Downs.

"John, wake up, we're here" Sherlock whispered with a gentle shake to his shoulder, jostling the smaller man out of his dream state.

"Hmm? What? What happened? Where are we?" John mumbled, jumbling the words together as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes and removed his weight from Sherlock's side.

"Come on, we have to go"

Too sleepy to argue, John complied and stood up while Sherlock grabbed the bags and then followed the taller man off of the train, vaguely aware that there were hardly any other passengers still on.

Stepping off of the train, John was suddenly very aware that they were seemingly in the middle of nowhere.

"Where the _hell_ are we?" John asked, followed by a stifled yawn as he looked over the green hills of unpopulated nowhere. "Seriously, Sherlock, where are we? If we're lost, just say so because I don't want to be eaten by wild animals or cannibals."

"Don't be ridiculous- oh, look! Our ride's here." Sherlock shouted with a wave at the older fellow currently riding a horse powered wagon.

"Sherlock- what the _bloody hell_ is going on here?" John whisper shouted from his usual pace behind the genius, who, instead of answering the doctor, raised a hand out to shake with the stranger.

"Hello, my name is Sherlock Holmes and this is my friend, John Watson"

"Hello there! I'm Charlie Busvuick, the owner of the bee farm you wanted to take a look at! And don't worry, you won't find any homophobic's around here" Charlie greeted with a wink. "Hop on in!"

"Thank you" Sherlock said curtly as he lifted the baggage into the wagon and then jumped in, himself.

"We're not a coup-"

"John."

John looked from the smiling owner of whatever bee farm Sherlock felt the need to look at, and then to Sherlock, who had a hand stretched out for him.

With a sigh, John accepted the hand and climbed into the back of the wagon, feeling it oddly comforting as he thought back to his younger years when he had lived in the country.

"Alright, Sherlock, I've been playing along, but what is this, really? We're out in the middle of nowhere, going to look at some _bee farm_ with a male version of Mrs. Hudson. Why?"

"Hang on tight, boys" Charlie warned as the wagon started to move along the bumpy road.

"We're in South Downs, and we will most likely be purchasing the bee farm, if all goes to plan. As for Mrs. Hudson, I don't see the resemblance" Sherlock explained, his eyes scanning their surroundings constantly, as if expecting something to jump out at them at any second.

"How could you _possibly_ not see how similar they are? They even look alike, for christ's sake!" John whispered almost angrily as he pointed to the man steering the wagon.

"Possibly the hair style, otherwise, no, I can't see it"

"The hair doesn't even look alike, do you remember Mrs. Hudson or have you deleted her from your "Mind Palace" already?"

"I'm sorry, who?"

John put a stern hand out between the two of them as if to start a lecture before suddenly bursting out in giggles, with Sherlock promptly following in suit.

"A bee farm? Really?" John asked with a smile, giggling some more when Sherlock nodded.

"We've turned into a retired married couple in the span of one day"

Sherlock offered a small smile in response, which John gladly returned until they hit a rather large bump and suddenly something dawned on him. "Wait a second. How long are we going to be staying here?" John inquired, his expression seemingly reflecting worry, which only made Sherlock nervous as he tried to predict how John would feel about his answer.

"Possibly.. indefinitely..."

John let out a weak laugh only to stop himself as Sherlock looked away, his lips pressed together tightly as he tried to keep his expression neutral.

"You're serious?" John breathed as he leaned back and took their situation into consideration.

"I am.."

"Shit, Sherlock... Did you really think this through? I mean, say Moriarty doesn't find us, aren't you going to go insane with boredom? What about a family? What about Mycroft, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, Molly, hell, after a week with just me you're going to be wishing Anderson would stop by" John voiced his worries followed by biting his lower lip, Sherlock could _hear_ the doctor's thoughts buzzing from across the wagon.

"All I care about is you, John. I couldn't ask for a better person to spend the rest of my life with, and I know you probably feel like you're stuck with me because of Moriarty but... I would give anything to keep you safe, and if you want me to go get the milk every week, I will, just please... please tell me you can be alright with this because if you can't... I don't know what else I can do..." Sherlock confessed from his side of the wagon, his eyes having been shifting from his shoes, to John, and back again throughout his whole confession.

John, on the other hand, kept his eyes glued to the consulting detective as his mind tried to process just what he was hearing.

"Sherlock.." He finally managed to say, still not quite sure what he was going to follow it up with, but at least he had somewhere to start.

Sherlock looked over at John sheepishly, surprised to find the smaller man was smiling and had tears prickling his eyes.

"You are the best man I have ever met. You are.. absolutely brilliant, and you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. To think you would go through all of this, just for me is... thank you, Sherlock"

"You can stop making love declarations, boys, we're here!" Charlie announced as the wagon came to an abrupt stop in front of a fenced in almost cottage looking house with a boxed in area for the bee hives out back.

Small, quaint, and private, just as Sherlock had predicted given the description online.

Better, even.

"This.. is _beautiful_" John announced in somewhat disbelief.

Hills roamed across the land with skies of clear blue. The house itself was older, with just a dash of modernism. It was a stone structure dark wood door and large windows that were currently covered on the inside by beige drapes. The dirt road they had been walking on had a path that veered off and over to a slightly farther out shed/garage over by where the bee chambers were held.

"You haven't even seen the inside yet!" Charlie laughed out as he walked up the path and over to the front door where he pulled out his key and opened it for the doctor, who quickly walked in and smiled at the cozy interior.

Upon walking in, you had a little mud room with a built in coat rack and shoe storage on the right hand side, which then lead into the comfortable sized living room with a large stone fire place that matched the exterior. "Wow" John breathed as he spun around to look at Sherlock, who appeared to be inspecting every last inch of the building and therefore still stuck at the doorway.

Shaking his head, John focused back on the house and walked into the open concept kitchen/ dining room that had a lovely view of what would be their backyard.

As for the cabinets and counter tops, it was all dark wood with fairly new kitchen appliances.

At the end of the dining space, there was a door which lead to what appeared to be the master bedroom and connected bathroom. The bedroom was rather spacious with a large fan on the ceiling and several large, connected windows lining the wall on the left side.

"Sherlock, are you seeing this? The view is, absolutely amazing!" John shouted through the house, catching the detective's attention who had just been shoving his head into the fire place.

"Hmm? Oh yes, quite" Was his quick response before he pulled out his magnifying glass and went back to his examination.

The doctor, who couldn't see exactly what Sherlock was doing given his current location across the house but had a fairly good guess, rolled his eyes and continued on to the master bathroom, the smile never leaving his face.

The bathroom floors were the same dark wood as the rest of the house with white walls, a large, almost oversized in John's opinion, bathtub and separate shower with a plain white toilet and sink, which had a mirrored medicine cabinet above it. Attached to the back of the door were two towel hooks and behind the door was a rather large cabinet used for storing everything from towels to, well, in normal people's case probably hair spray, in theirs it'll be more like rotting eyeballs.

"The bees come with the house if you're interested, otherwise I put them to sleep earlier in case you didn't want them, I could take them off of your hands." John over heard Charlie say to Sherlock while the detective multitasked by fiddling through the kitchen cabinets and working out business all at once.

"Won't be necessary, we'll want them"

"So, decided to take it, have we?" John piped in as he walked back into the kitchen, noticing along his way that there was a laundry room he had passed without noticing, the door already opened as if Sherlock had previously gone through there.

"I believe so, don't you agree, John?" Sherlock asked hopefully while looking over to find John still had a smile tugging at his lips.

"I think so- it's lovely, Charlie, really... lovely" John said sincerely as he distracted himself with the beautiful view once again. It was reassuring, calm, safe... Exactly how he'd always wanted to settle down, he had just never pictured doing it with another man before now.

"Good, that's... good" Sherlock decided as he pulled one of the suit cases he had been dragging along with him up onto the counter top. "Now. I'm willing to pay you asking price, in cash, which I'm sure you're aware is more than fair considering all of the scuffing, your rat problem, old piping, and faint smell of dog- Yorkie, I believe, correct?"

"I'm sorry, rat what?" John asked without missing a beat, meanwhile the other two men ignored him and instead focused on the wads of cash Sherlock made mysteriously appear out of several articles of clothing.

Not quite so random, then...

"I've already read the copy of the contract you had posted online, it'll do so long as you currently have it with you otherwise I'll continue to edit it for however long it takes you to retrieve the documents- oh good, they're in your pocket. Well then, I'll sign on the dotted line and this," He held up several wads of rolled up large sum notes, "Is yours."

Finding it hard to keep up with the young man, Charlie simply nodded and pulled out the documents from his coat pocket and pen from his back one, which Sherlock promptly took from him.

"John, sign this with me"

"Oh, right"

The doctor cleared his throat as he walked up and took the pen Sherlock held out for him without a moments hesitation. With a sniff, Sherlock pointed to where he wanted John to sign, under his own name, and waited rather patiently for him to do so.

Once John finished, Sherlock grabbed the pen from him and handed it to the owner with an obviously fake smile.

Nonetheless, Charlie signed the papers and traded out the cash for the keys. "Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Busvuick"

"Pleasure's all mine" Charlie said, still shocked about how much money he was holding in his hands as he left the house and got back in his wagon to hurriedly speed home to his wife with the news.

"So, we're now owners of a bee farm?" John asked, dumbfounded by how that had all happened so quickly.

"Yup."

"And where exactly did you get all of that cash? You weren't pick pocketing people on the train while I was asleep, were you?"

John looked skeptically up at the taller man beside him, that of whom almost looked offended by the accusation- almost.

"I always assumed one day I would need to run off somewhere, so I've been preparing for it since I was six, and Mycroft needs to keep better tabs on his bank accounts, every now and again I dip into his, just to see if he'll notice. If he does, he's never bothered to say anything about it." Sherlock explained as he rolled the rest of his giant cash wads across the counter.

"That's... I'm not sure what that is, theft, actually, I'm pretty sure, something along those lines.."

"Delivery for the mattresses should be here within the hour, I'm paying them extra to bring along some take out since they don't deliver this far out- care to look at some bees?" Sherlock said impressively all in one breath as he pulled out two bee resistant outfits from one of the cabinets.

"Wait, wait, wait" John shot out quickly as he raised his hands to halt their current conversation. "There's only one bedroom."

"Yes, it's yours. Bees?" Sherlock said impatiently as he held out one of the uniforms a little further.

"What about you?"

"Attic will do, soon as I solve the rat problem, till then I suppose the living room or shed- now, hurry, the bees are waiting."

Sherlock promptly shoved the uniform into John's hands and slid his uniform on, barely having zipped it up before running out and over to the sleeping bees.

"Come on, John!" Sherlock called out with a wave of his hand, gesturing for the doctor to follow.

"I can't believe this is happening- if I get stung, I _will_ kill all of your precious bees" John warned as he slipped on the protective gear before closing the sliding door behind him and following Sherlock out to the bee hives.

-0.0-

Two hours later, Sherlock and John were sitting comfortably on John's large king sized bed, both on their own sides as they looked out over the sunset, take out pizza and two liters of soda sat by their feet, nearly forgotten now that they were no longer starving.

"Do you really think this will work? Honestly?" John asked as he leaned against the wall, his comforter package and pillows still unopened beside him.

Sherlock didn't take a second to think it over as he responded, "Absolutely. For me, anyway. For you... you can be unpredictable, so it's impossible to tell"

John pursed his lips as he looked out over the hills, the sky a mix of reds, purples, and blues as the sun disappeared over the horizon. "So long as you don't wake up one day, bored of me... I think we could make it work..." John decided with a lazy smile and glance at Sherlock, who was surprisingly already staring at the doctor.

"I will never get bored of you, John. You're... different, special"

John's smile turned into a full out grin at that. "Well aren't you just full of heart warming words today? Aside from this morning, of course"

Sherlock scoffed and rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to the sunset instead of focusing on John's teasing any further.

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you googled "Sweet things to say to a loved one" on that phone you pick pocketed earlier" John practically cooed with a little kick to Sherlock's foot.

"It's a good thing you know better, then"

Another wave of exhaustion hit the doctor and he let out a stifled yawn.

"I'll let you get to sleep" Sherlock declared as he stood up from the mattress and grabbed the box of left over pizza with one hand and the two soda bottles with the other.

"Thanks, Sherlock" John said sleepily as he stretched out across the mattress and pulled the packaged sheets and comforter closer.

"Good night, John"

"Good night, Sherlock"

Sherlock used his elbow to close the door behind himself, hesitating outside the door for just a moment to listen for any irregularities before walking into the kitchen area and putting the pizza and soda in the fridge.

Finally, after a long day and even longer night before, Sherlock laid down upon his new mattress, not bothering to pull out the blankets or pillows, and drifted off to sleep.

-0.0-

Screams, John's screams.

Sherlock jumped off of his mattress and ran into the master bedroom where John was screaming into his pillow, tears running down his face and soaking the pillow case as nightmares invaded his subconscious.

"John, John, wake up, it's only a nightmare, you're safe" Sherlock said softly and calmly while gently rubbing the doctor's back as he jolted into reality.

"Sherlock?" John whispered in a broken voice as he turned his head to look up at the shadowed figure.

"Yes, John... I'm here.. You're alright" Sherlock whispered back as he ran his hand up to short strands of blonde hair and back down John's neck and spine in what he hoped was a soothing manner.

"Oh I'm so sorry, Sherlock..." John breathed apologetically as he buried his face into his tear soaked pillow.

"Don't be sorry" Was all Sherlock could think to say as he slowly retracted his hand.

John then sat up next to Sherlock, dropping his head in his hands as he slouched down with a groan. "I'll... try to be quieter.. you can go back to sleep now, Sherlock.. thanks for... everything"

Sherlock frowned and then gently reached out for John's shoulder, taking it as a good sign when the doctor didn't jump or move away from the touch. "I'm not going anywhere, John... Go back to sleep, I'll be here when you wake up" He assured while slowly pulling John onto the bed in a position where his head was on Sherlock's lap with the detective's fingers entangling themselves in the doctor's hair.

"Sherlock..."

"Yes?"

"You looked this up on google, didn't you?"

"I did, yes"

John stifled a laugh and dug his face further into Sherlock's pajama bottoms. "You're ridiculous"

"I can stop if you want me to"

"No, it's... fine- nice, actually" John confessed with a sheepish smile he knew Sherlock couldn't see in the dark but Sherlock being Sherlock would know was there anyway.

"..Good."

After that the two went into a comfortable silence as John fell back asleep, Sherlock soon following suit as exhaustion caught up with him.

**-0.0-**

**A/N: Hope you liked it! Reviews are awesome, but everyone knows that already ;)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Warning this chapter is a bit slow! Just kind of transitioning a bit, I guess? A little fluff added in there, too! **

**-0.0-**

Sherlock was first to wake up, his back and neck aching from having been sitting up for so long while his head undoubtedly hung forward throughout the night.

None of that seemed to matter, though, as he looked down to see John still sleeping peacefully, his arms loosely draped across Sherlock's waist and thighs, the doctor having flipped over some time during the night now that he was facing the detective.

With a faint, upward tug of his lips, Sherlock lazily raised his hand to dig into blonde strands of hair while his thumb gently caressed the soft skin over John's cheek bone. In response, the ex-army doctor let out a small, seemingly happy, sound and rubbed his face gently into Sherlock's lap before going still once more.

Through the windows, Sherlock could see the faintest light brought about by the sun rising, indicating that it was still in the wee hours of the morning. Still, his mind was on full alert, calculating every breath John took, the way his eye lids fluttered with a pleasant dream, his slightly parted mouth that would likely be dry the time he woke up...

Water, he should get John water for when he woke up, shouldn't he? Surely that's what one was supposed to do for their friend, wasn't it? Bring them water in the morning to ease their dry throat?

Tedious, these social concepts were... Too foreign for him to possibly make a conclusion without the right background in the subject. Damn.. he should have looked more into these things when he had the chance- There's no one to pick pocket around here.

"Mmfh... Sherlock? Why are you staring at me like that?" John asked in a gruff, early morning voice. Interesting, Sherlock kind of liked it- it was... endearing.

"Would you like a glass of water?" Sherlock decided to ask, can't get results if you don't perform the experiment.

The doctor made an odd, scrunched up face and a grunt as he sat up and reached for his throat. "My throat is kind of dry, now that you mention it.."

At that, Sherlock leaped to his feet, leaving John behind as he headed for his suit case to pull out two mugs that he had acquired before leaving 221B. Swiftly, he took the one John usually used and brought it to the sink to fill with water, then carefully carried it back to the doctor, who was now stretching out his arms.

"Hah! When did you sneak that out of the flat?" John asked upon recognizing one of his favorite mugs.

"While you were putting on your shoes and coat, took you much longer than usual given your distress and confusion, which I then used to my advantage to grab some necessities from the kitchen."

"Huh... what else did you manage to grab while I wasn't looking?" John inquired curiously, adding a quick "Thank you" as Sherlock handed him the mug of water.

"Just two mugs.. and some papers.."

"Papers?"

"I do believe I just said that, yes"

John looked up from his water, which he had been sipping on, and sent Sherlock a tilted put out look.

"Yes, I know that, what kind of papers?"

Sherlock promptly turned his head to look out the windows, his head held high. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Oh!" John groaned as he set the water on the ground beside his foot. "Come on! They aren't more papers you had me sign while drunk, are they?"

"No, you were... quite sober, I believe"

John pursed his lips and tried to think back to what Sherlock has had him sign in the past as he looked out at the sun rise, a swirling mix of yellows, pinks, and oranges.

Deciding it was a lost cause since Sherlock has made him do plenty of ridiculous things over the span of their friendship, including sign random forms, John stood up and stretched a bit more. "Right, so, what do we have planned for today? Grocery shopping, I hope. Can't have the boys at the mattress shop bring us pizza everyday, now can we?"

"I'm sure we could, if we paid them enough, it just wouldn't be particularly desirable."

John let out a faint laugh at that, thinking of them, eating pizza every night for the rest of their lives, certainly not desirable. "Alright, so where's the actual town around here?"

"Just a few miles down the road, I'm sure we could walk there by lunch if we leave within the hour." Sherlock informed the ex-army doctor as he reached down to pick up the mug of water and drink the rest of it's contents with a satisfied sigh at the end.

"Miles? Dear god, Sherlock, we've got to get bikes or _something_ because _that_ is quite the hike and I don't think I could pull it off very frequently." John confessed as he thought of the return trip, groceries bundled in both of their arms. Definitely not going to be something one would want to do every day.

"Agreed, we can take a look around the shops, see what they have"

Sherlock inspected the mug, surprised to find the sink water tasted better than what they usually sell in stores. Interesting, piping may be old, but certainly not bad.

"Alright, I'll just change my clothes and we can get on our way?" John phrased what would have been a statement with more of a questioning tone as he pointed to the connected bathroom.

"3 and a half minutes, then. I'll be in the living room."

John opened his mouth to ask when the hell Sherlock had time to measure his "quick" shower time, but didn't get the chance when the detective slid through the door and closed it behind him, leaving the doctor alone in the bedroom.

"Alright, fine, Sherlock counts how long it takes me to change, fine by me.. it's all... fine.." John mumbled to himself as he picked up his suit case from the floor and started looking through the clothes Sherlock had picked out, trailing off a little at the end as he noticed they were all of his favorite attire, aside from the jumper he had been wearing when...

John released a breathy sigh, he was not going to go there, that was over and done with.

So, instead he focused his attention on what he did have, smiling when he found the shirt he knew Sherlock hated but the doctor loved none the less having it been a gift from Harry and Clara.

-0.0-

3 minutes and 27 seconds later, John walked out of the master bedroom, frowning when he saw Sherlock, face down on his mattress.

"You're wearing that hideous shirt, aren't you?" Sherlock mumbled into the bed, taking John by surprise as he looked down and was, indeed, wearing the shirt from his sister and ex-wife.

"How-"

"Of _ALL _the shirts to choose from, John... I knew I was going to regret packing it" Sherlock groaned as he lifted his head from the soft material of the mattress and turned to glare at the article of clothing hanging loosely over the doctor's torso.

"Don't even _think_ about trying to burn this shirt, Sherlock- are you ready to go?"

John walked over to the coat rack and pulled off his jacket, slipping it on over his shoulders while Sherlock dragged his body up off of the bed and stumbled over to his own coat.

"Stupid shirt.." Sherlock muttered under his breathe as he pulled the front door open and ignored the warning look John sent him as he stepped through it and out into the chilly air.

"I'm assuming we're going to take a right, correct?" John guessed as he looked down both sides of the street, finding that it seemingly went on forever in both directions.

"Quite" Sherlock confirmed as they turned down the road, officially beginning their first journey into town together.

They continued on in silence, both caught up in their own minds as the wind nipped at their ears and cheeks.

Finally, after several, in Sherlock's opinion, distracting, glances backwards, John decided, "If we're not half way there yet, I'm turning back- it's freezing out here."

Sherlock glanced down and to his right at the doctor who was rubbing his hands together rapidly in an attempt to create some warming friction, which, apparently, wasn't working.

"We'll pick you up some gloves while we're in town, until then..." Sherlock pulled off his own leather gloves and handed them to the smaller man "..you can use mine"

John looked at the surprisingly large gloves and stopped walking. "Well, hold on- then _your_ hands are going to get cold, and you're going to ignore them, and then they're going to get frost bitten" The doctor dead panned, knowing Sherlock often didn't pay any mind to the body's "trivial" needs like warmth.

"Well then what do you suggest, doctor? We just passed the half way mark two minutes ago" Sherlock pointed out while gesturing over to some point which apparently John was supposed to recognize as the half way mark.

Looking down at the gloves, John bit his lip, then handed the left one to the detective and slid the right one onto his own hand, immediately holding out his left hand for Sherlock to take.

Catching on, Sherlock silently slid on the glove and took John's ungloved hand into his own, stuffing both of them into the warmth of his coat pocket. Nodding at his own, surprisingly good, idea, John moved along, keeping in pace with the taller man now that they were walking much closer together.

After several more steps, it was Sherlock's time to stop them as he retracted their connected hands and pulled off his scarf. John looked curiously at the detective as he took one end of the scarf and wrapped it around John's exposed neck and ears, then took the other end and wrapped it around his own before reaching for John's hand again and placing them in his pocket without so much as meeting John's amused eyes.

"...This... makes it rather difficult to deny that we're a couple..." John mentioned after having walked a little while longer down the road.

Sherlock didn't respond, instead simply squeezed the doctor's hand ever so slightly tighter and continued to look forward, very aware of how John didn't seem to mind the lack of response and instead just began bobbing his head as if to music- probably a beat stuck in his head.

Sherlock watched the shorter man through the corner of his eye, trying to piece together the melody using the nods of John's head, only to realize he didn't recognize it- something modern, then.

"I.." Sherlock spoke up after a little more ways down the road. "I mean... you always correct people when they assume we're a couple... why?" The detective asked hesitantly, refusing to meet John's confused eyes, his thought process having diverged from that topic a while back.

"Umm.. well.." John let out a deep breath as he tried to gather his thoughts. "I suppose I just correct them because I don't want to give them the wrong idea?"

At that, Sherlock looked down at the doctor. "Aren't we, though?"

John quirked an eye brow, obviously having gotten lost in their conversation. "Aren't we what?"

Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows in frustration and bit his lip, tearing his gaze away from John as he set his features into a pout.

"Oh, come on, Sherlock, don't be like that. Aren't we what? Even you have to admit your train of thought is hard for an outside party to follow most of the time"

John nudged his shoulder into Sherlock's upper arm since he couldn't quite reach the other man's shoulder as he tried to get the detective to speak up and not disappear off into his mind palace.

With an exasperated sigh, Sherlock shot his gaze over into John's startled dark blue eyes. "Aren't we a couple?" He asked clearly, a light blush dusting his cheeks from having said it out loud.

Taken aback, John tilted his head, replaying their conversation in his mind to see if he had missed anything while Sherlock glared at him impatiently.

"Sherlock... do you know what a couple is?" John retorted with another question, thoroughly frustrating his genius companion.

"Yes, John, I know what a _couple_ is. It's two people who are close." Sherlock explained with growing agitation at how thick the doctor was being.

"It's a bit more complicated than that, Sherlock. A couple is usually romantically or sexually involved"

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"We're romantically involved"

"How-" John cut himself off as he remembered their current position, the fact that they just bought a house together, slept toge- okay, slept as in just sleeping- no funny business, the fact that they both admitted to wanting to spend the rest of their lives with one another...

"Ohh..." John breathed suddenly, realizing that yeah, in some ways, they could definitely be seen as a couple.

"Forget it, we're here" Sherlock deadpanned as he pulled his hand out of his pocket, threw off the scarf, and took several steps ahead, leaving John behind as they entered the small town.

"Sherlock!" John called out as he ran to catch up to the detective, that of whom made a bee line for what appeared to pass as a grocery store in this town.

Stepping through through the front door of the shop, John found himself suddenly lost in the crammed little store, not sure as to where Sherlock had wondered off to. "Excuse me, have you seen a tall man in a black coat? He's got his coat collar up and mysterious cheek bones? Hard to miss" John asked the young lady at the register, that of whom smiled at him and pointed toward the back of the store.

"Just walked in and headed for the back left, you two make an adorable couple by the way, Charlie, my neighbor, told me all about you two" The girl said with a grin.

"We're not- right, thanks. Tell Charlie I said hi" John said hastily, cutting himself off since he didn't really know what they were as he walked to the back of the store.

"There you are! Don't go running off like that"

Sherlock ignored the other man in favor of picking up a carton of milk and walking away, leaving John to either catch up or fall behind as he wandered through the aisles, every now and again dropping off his findings at the register when his hands became too full and refused to let John help.

Finally, after going through the whole store, Sherlock placed the last of his, apparently internal, list on the counter and pulled out a rather large sum of money which the girl gawked at.

"I don't know how expensive things are from where you're from, but around here that could buy you a boat!" She exclaimed while ringing up the last of their items and stuffing the seventh paper bag full. John looked at them and frowned, carrying those back might be a challenge.

"I'd much prefer a truck, thanks, the one you're selling will do."

"How did you know I was selling my truck? I haven't told anyone about it, yet" The young lady asked with a surprised smile, curious as to how the stranger she only just met could possibly know that.

"He just knows things, trust me, it's better if you don't ask" John piped in as he rubbed his forehead and sent the girl a charming little smile which was apparently contagious because she smiled back.

"I'll take your word for it- I don't want to know what you two were getting up to in the back near my truck, but if you spilled on it, it's yours" The girl said with a wink and wiggle of eyebrows at John, who's jaw dropped at the young ladies failed subtlety.

However, instead of correcting her, the good doctor simply cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck while Sherlock glanced at him quizzically, clearly not understanding what the girl was referring to, and for that, John will forever be thankful. He wasn't exactly in the best position to discuss sexual innuendo after his last sexual encounter, and Sherlock wasn't exactly the best at catching on to things like that unless they're spelled out for him.

"We'll take it, along with the groceries.. but we didn't spill anything on it.."

"Oh god..." John breathed.

-0.0-

After acquiring the truck and putting the groceries in the back, John was much more open to looking around the town a bit more, so they stopped at a small cafe and sat down at one of the tables to look at the menu.

"John..." Sherlock whispered from across the table, distracting the doctor from a delicious photograph of a Reuben.

"Yes?"

"There's a clothing shop down the str-"

"No." John said impassively as he looked back at his menu.

"Wait, listen. You can keep the shirt, you just can't ever wear-"

"No."

Sherlock clamped his mouth shut and leaned back in the chair like a child who didn't get what they wanted.

"Hello, boys! What can I get for you today?" A waitress came over to ask, a smile too big to be real plastered to her face.

"Ah, yes, I'll get a Reuben and... coffee, please, black" John ordered with an upward tug of his lips as he handed the waitress his menu.

"And for you?" She asked Sherlock, who was still staring blankly at John and if ugly shirt that taunted him from under the doctor's coat. Really should have left it at Baker Street.

"Sherlock" John said with a duck of his head as he made eye contact with the detective.

"Hmm? Oh, your husband is cheating on you"

"What?" The waitress asked while slowly reaching for her wedding ring that sat on her left hand.

"He's having an affair with one of the waitresses from second shift- oh, you two run this business together, well, that's no doubt where the stress is coming from, do take a day off every now and again, it'll help with the stress lines a lot better than that ointment you've been using." Sherlock rattled on while John watched a scowl slip on to the waitress/ owner's face.

"Tony, you fucking shit! Get your ass out here!" The woman screamed from across the cafe, scaring the hell out of the other customer who had been casually sipping coffee at one of the stools at the bar.

"I suggest we leave" Sherlock said to the doctor as he leaned across the table, meanwhile the waitress stormed over to the kitchen, still screaming bloody murder.

"But my Reuben..." John mumbled heart brokenly as he glanced at Sherlock's untouched menu, a picture of a Reuben standing proud on the front cover.

"Now, John." Sherlock hissed with impatience just as they heard a loud clatter and more yelling, now from both members of the married couple.

"Right" John said quickly as he and Sherlock made a run for the exit and up to the truck.

The doctor hopped into the passenger's seat while Sherlock dove into the driver's and sped off in the direction of their new home.

"Don't get me wrong, Sherlock, amazing deductions just... it couldn't have waited until after lunch?" John asked with a smile as he looked over at the grinning detective.

"Not going to scold me, doctor?" Sherlock inquired as he kept his eyes on the road.

"No... I think sometimes, not all the time, but in this case... it's good to give someone a little push like that... It'll at least get them talking so they can work out their differences instead of sneaking out around each others backs.."

"Assuming they don't kill each other first"

"Yes," John let out a breathy laugh, "assuming they both make it out alive"

They made it down the road about another mile or so in a comfortable silence until Sherlock decided to pull off to the side of the road.

"Hmm? What's this about, then? Run out of gas? Please tell me we don't have to get out and push" John groaned as he looked out at the dirt road ahead, their place still another two of three miles down the road.

"John... we should probably talk"

John stopped looking out the window and instead gave Sherlock his full attention, ready for anything.

"I'm sorry, about earlier. I misunderstood and I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable because of it" Sherlock said slowly as he stared straight into dark blue, hoping the other man would understand that he was being sincere.

"Is this about the whole couple thing?" John asked, not sure of what else they could be talking about that would fit this context.

Sherlock nodded, and in response blinked, twice, before smiling up at the detective.

"Sherlock. I'm the one who should be apologizing, you're right, we are.. well, we're something. I'm not sure yet but we can work this out. I, for one, wouldn't have a problem... trying, it, at least... if we were to take it slowly- very slowly, mind you. I've never been... I've never been with a man, aside from... that, and-"

"I would never pressure you into something like that, John." Sherlock cut in quickly as he reached for John's hand and simply rested it there, a gentle touch of skin to skin.

"I know, Sherlock.." John said with a twinge of a smile while he twisted his hand around to squeeze Sherlock's. "Let's just... take it one step at a time, yeah?"

The detective smiled and gently raised John's hand to his lips, giving his knuckles a quick kiss before settling their hands back down to rest between their seats. "Yeah" He whispered softly, then began to steer slowly back onto the main road with his other hand.

-0.0-

After putting groceries away and, in John's case, cooking a lunch that consisted of macaroni and soda- neither of them were particularly good at cooking- the two men sat down with their meals on the floor with their backs against the walls for support.

"You know... sooner or later we're going to need to get real silver ware and plates- all this paper and plastic is bad for the environment." John mentioned casually as he shoved another fork full of noodles into his mouth. "One of us is also going to need to learn how to cook..." He added as an afterthought, more to himself than to Sherlock.

"We can pick up some cook books tomorrow when we go out to get furniture." Sherlock added helpfully, figuring it could cure both of their boredom if they learned something relatively useful. Better than crap telly, anyway.

"I still can't believe we're actually doing here, doing.. _this_" John said while motioning around them.

"This?" Sherlock asked with a quirked eyebrow as he looked around them. It wasn't all that different. Sure, they were in a new place and instead of hunting criminals watching over bees, but it wasn't all that different.

"Well, just thinking about it is... strange. Different, good different- don't get me wrong- but still.. different. It's much more... permanent."

"Permanent... You didn't think we would stay together at Baker street?" Sherlock inquired as he set his paper plate to the side and rolled his head over to look at the doctor.

"Well.. no, I guess not... I mean, I had hoped it would but there was always this... voice, in the back of my head telling me it was going to end in some way or another..." John explained with a puzzled little look upon his face, not really sure he understood why that was- possibly because he had always pictured himself getting married? Then again perhaps he never really expected either of them to live particularly long?

"I suppose you're right. While at Baker street I was worried you were going to run off and get married.. not that you can't here... probability is just.. much smaller..." Sherlock said softly as he looked to the dark floors with a quiet, shaky breathe.

"A mad man is probably searching the globe for us right now and _you're_ worried I'm going to go run off and get married?" John asked with a huff of laughter and amused smile. "Nice to know what your priorities are" He finished with a snort and another mouthful of macaroni.

"You _are_ my priority, John"

John looked quizzically over to Sherlock, who looked back unwaveringly.

"I'm still not convinced you didn't use the search engine to learn how to sweet talk"

"Does that mean I'm doing it right?"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow as John continued to look through narrowed eyes at the taller man, as if he was trying to see past a disguise. "You are.. which is why impossible to believe you could actually come up with them on your own.."

"Oh! Would you like to set up some rat traps with me? I'll get the traps, you get the cheese" Sherlock exclaimed seemingly out of nowhere as he sped up and off the the kitchen.

"_That_ is more of what I would expect to come out of your mouth" John confessed as he picked up both of their plates silverware, and mugs.

"Did you say something?" Sherlock asked as he pulled out several rat traps from the pantry.

"Did you- were those in with the rest of our food?" John asked, dumbfounded as he looked from the soon to be rat murderer to the pantry and back again.

"Oh please, John, you've seen much worse"

"_Not_ when there are _dozens_ of other cabinets and drawers you could have put them in!" John grumbled as he threw the plates and silverware into the garbage bag they had hanging from the now rat poison infested pantry.

"Fine, no hazardous materials where we store food from now on, got it" Sherlock groaned as he removed the wrapping from one of the rat traps and handed it to John.

"Eww, no"

John promptly took a step back from the extended rat trap.

"Dr. John Hamish-" John cringed at the sound of his middle name. "Watson, ex-army doctor, are you afraid of rodents?" Sherlock inquired, his lips twitching upward as John frowned at him with his arms crossed in an attempt to hide he was uncomfortable.

"Shut up, Sherlock."

"Trembling, shortness of breath, uncomfortable shifting, even starting to break out into sweat- you're horrified, aren't you?"

"Like you're not afraid of anything."

At that, Sherlock's mouth snapped shut, his smile gone as hid eyes cast downward and he walked over to the fridge, pulling out cheese before scooping up his different rat traps and heading over toward the attic access door in the living room.

"Wait..." John mumbled softly, "Wait, Sherlock" He said a little louder and began to follow the detective upon hearing Sherlock pull down the drop down latter.

"What is it, John?" Sherlock mumbled, bag of deadly poisons and traps hanging in his mouth as he stopped halfway up the latter.

"Never mind" He decided with a wave of his hand. "It can wait until you get down- and be careful!"

Sherlock grunted his acknowledgment and continued up the latter, leaving John watch his disappear into the rat infested attic. "Don't let them bite you!" He yelled, shivering when he heard a squeak that had most definitely come from a rodent.

"I'm uhh.. going to go take a shower, you know, now that we have shampoo and all... that, yeah, just... be careful" John finished lamely with a cringe as he heard another squeak, feeling the sudden need to wash off his entire body. "And when you get down you're taking one too, whether you want to or not!" He added for good measure as he slid out of the living room, finding it suddenly rather suffocating.

-0.0-

Two showers, another visit with the bees, left over pizza, and a good old fashioned car wash later, Sherlock and John were playing the alphabet game on John's mattress.

"L?" John asked, his hands holding the back of his head as he lay next to Sherlock on the large bed.

"Laurylbenzenesulfonic acid"

"Can you, I don't know, say something that isn't a strange chemical? Just for once?"

"I thought the whole point of this game was to say the first word that comes into your mind?"

"...Fine, my turn"

"Z?"

"Zombie"

"...Really?"

John let out a long sigh. "What is it this time, Sherlock?"

"Nothing... just... not what I would have said-"

"And what would you have said?"

"Zeugmatography"

"..Of course you would have"

Sherlock twisted his body around so that he was lying flat on his stomach with his head turned to face John, that of whom already had his eyes fixated on the detective.

"John..."

"Yeah?"

"Why are you afraid of rats? If I had to guess, I'd say childhood trauma fits better than most other poss-"

"_Alright_, alright, no need to go around making deductions, it's not like it's a big secret or anything."

"Then why? You can rush into the middle of a battle and shoot straight through two glass windows but you squirm just from hearing a rat? It's not irrational.. it can't be, there's a reason"

John turned so that he was on his side, his voice turned to a whisper as he looked at Sherlock, who silently looked back, the space between them mere inches. "When I was a kid, we lived out in the country, not quite like this, but still, it was definitely the country so with it came quite a few rats and mice. Then, one day, when Harry and I were playing hide and seek, I had gone down into the cellar to look for her and, well, she wasn't in there but when I went down she locked me in from the outside... and..."

"Rats..." Sherlock whispered knowingly.

"Yes, rats... a whole lot of them. I ended up being stuck down there for almost an hour before my mother went looking for me. Harriet could be a real arse sometimes"

Sherlock simply nodded as he bit his lip and rested his chin in the palm of his hand.

"What about you, then? I forgot to ask you earlier what your fears are" John asked as he, himself, held up his head with his own hand.

"Up until I met you I would have said I didn't have any.." Sherlock said softly, hoping that was enough to keep John from prying any further. Thankfully, it was, and John nodded in understanding, a far out look in his eyes as he tried to picture exactly what those fears were, but something told him he already knew...

"Good night, John, long day ahead of us tomorrow" Sherlock blurted out quickly as he slid off of the bed and rose to his feet with a small stretch.

"Sherlock.. you don't have to go.. we could, make due.. here, if you wanted.." John offered with pink dusted cheeks as he patted the blanket and sheet clad mattress.

"One step at a time, John... don't feel like you need to rush things for my sake... I'll be right out in the living room if you need me" Sherlock promised, followed by reaching for the door handle and flicking off the light switch.

"..Thank you, Sherlock..." John whispered into the darkness as he heard the door close, his heart pounding as he listened to Sherlock's foot steps lead away from the door and out toward the living room.

He breathed heavily, relieved to not be pressured, yet still feeling slightly lonely without the detective's presence by his side. With a conflicted frown, John closed his eyes and drifting off to what he hoped wouldn't be a nightmare.

-0.0-

Sherlock hadn't even fallen asleep by the time the screaming started and he was off to John's room, stopping just outside the door when suddenly the screaming stop.

After a few seconds Sherlock could hear the bed creak followed by choked sobs.

Screamed himself awake, then...

"John...?" Sherlock whispered quietly against the door, followed by several soft knocks.

"Yes?" John replied in a weak, strain voice from inside the dark room as Sherlock slowly opened the door and looked out into the darkness.

"Can I come in?" The detective asked, almost hesitantly as he heard John sniffle.

"Hah" He choked out a laugh, "Bit late for that, but yeah... come on in.."

Sherlock bit his lip and took several steps into the dark room, having to use his memory to find John's bed before he could take a seat next to the ex-army doctor.

"Bad dream?" He asked despite already knowing the answer.

"Yeah.." John confirmed as he wiped his nose and looked ahead, not quite sure how far away on the bed Sherlock was but finding it didn't matter, just his presence was comforting.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

John sat very still for a moment as he considered this. Sherlock already knew what happened from the report, so it wouldn't be anything new, but the nightmares strayed from the actual events, making them almost even more... personal...

"I.. I don't know..."

"I understand... if you choose you want to, all you need to do is say so" Sherlock explained as he reached out to touch John's shoulder in a comforting manner, only to swiftly pull back when the small man flinched at the contact.

"No!" John said quickly as he reached out for Sherlock, finding him in the darkness and then grabbing up the detective's hand into his own. "I didn't- that was.. it just startled me, is all... I wasn't expecting it"

Sherlock nodded his understanding in the dark, briefly noting that John probably hadn't noticed before moving his hand out of John's and up the smaller man's shoulder, rubbing across this shoulders to stimulate the nerves and release chemicals into John's, in much need of relaxing, brain.

The ex-army doctor let out a short, calm, breathe as his tension eased away.

"Sherlock.."

"Hmm?"

"Please don't go..."

Sherlock stopped moving his hand, but left it there all the same, the warmth seeping through John's night shirt.

"John, I don't-"

"Really, Sherlock, it's not moving too fast or anything to do with being a couple really it just... you chase the nightmares away" He finished awkwardly as the truth spilled out.

"..Alright"

Sherlock scooted over to the far side of the bed and pulled John down gently beside him, followed by sliding the blanket up over the both of them- how Sherlock did that so smoothly in the dark, John will never know.

"Good night, Sherlock" John said softly from his side of the bed, his back turned to the other man as he buried the side of his face in the pillow.

"Good night, John.."

**-0.0-**

**A/N: Sorry again it was kinda a bit slow, just them adjusting for the most part- hope you still liked it! As always, Reviews are epic 3**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hola! So, this chapter is.. hmm... also a little on the slower side I suppose? Maybe? Maybe not, don't listen to me, I have no idea what I'm talking about! But anyway, yeah it's here for you if you want to read it and just take a breather from your day. Feel free to just relax a bit and just escape into the fictional world, I know I need to every now and again. Hope this helps ease any tension you have going on in your lives right now, this is definitely a release for me and if it is for you too, I really hope you like it. (Even if it's not a rough time for you, I hope you like it too!) **

**Stay strong! **

**-0.0-**

This time it was John's turn to wake up first and with startling realization. "Sherlock!" He yelled upon springing up in bed, immediately turning his head to Sherlock, who was dutifully on his half of the bed.

Instead of a response, Sherlock groaned, he had a pretty good guess as to where this was going..

"We need to leave- now, my show starts at noon and we don't even have a telly" John explained unnecessarily, Sherlock already knew, he always knew.

So, instead of hopping up like John did, Sherlock pulled the covers over his head and pulled the pillow closer to his body.

"Get off your lazy arse, Sherlock! We have to go, _now_" John complained as he pulled the blanket away from Sherlock, who in response moaned in frustration while curling into a ball.

"Come _on_! We have to get a telly, hook up the cable, all of that, _before_ noon- so get up!" John growled as he pulled at Sherlock's arm, the detective simply rolling with the movement like a dead weight.

It wasn't until John stopped the movement that Sherlock let out another dissatisfied moan.

"Really? Sherlock, this is _important_"

"No, it's really not..."

Twitching with his own annoyance, John pulled on Sherlock's hand, dragging the man across the floor and out of their room- yes, it was now officially their room. No reason it shouldn't be, better than the shed or rat infested attic, anyway.

"Yes, it really is!" John argued with a huff, dragging around a full grown Sherlock wasn't exactly easy.

"So you go! Why should I have to come?" Sherlock argued back, the smooth wooden floors cold against his robe clad skin.

"Because you're the technical person! You _know_ things!"

"About television shopping?"

"Yes! About everything!"

At that Sherlock let out a dramatic sigh and John released him from his grip.

"Fine." The genius grumbled as he stood up and adjusted his robe, t-shirt, and pajama bottoms. "All we need is the actual device, anyway, cable is already hooked up"

"Good! That gives us time to look around a bit longer"

"_Great_" Sherlock agreed sarcastically as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

"Be ready to leave in five minutes" John barked at Sherlock, who rolled his eyes in response as John re-entered the bedroom.

"Why? It'll take you at least six" Sherlock mumbled to himself more than to John as he listened to the bathroom sink start up.

With a long, much needed stretch, Sherlock looked down at his clothing with a tight frown. He would need to get more clothes sooner rather than later.

-0.0-

"This one"

"No, that's- no, over here, John"

"What? Why? What's wrong with this one?"

"It's massive, and it's about to rain- we can't get one that won't fit with us in the front."

"We could always get a cover.." John grumbled as he followed Sherlock over to a smaller selection of flat screens. They were in a very odd store that was nearly a twenty minute drive from their house. It consisted of televisions, furniture, kitchen appliances, hardware, and a very strange addition of antiques cluttered the back wall.

"What happened to being in a hurry?" Sherlock almost teased while he inspected a smaller version of the television John had liked.

"Yeah, well, I like- large.. things" John finished lamely and with a confused look as he thought over what he just said.

"You like large _things_?" Sherlock asked innocently with a twinge of a smile as he glanced over at the frowning John Watson.

"I-" He cut himself off, his brows furrowing as he realized he didn't really have a come back that really... fit.

"Shut up" He settled for with a toss of his hand, glaring when Sherlock snorted and got back to his inspection.

"You boys finding everything alright?" The manager asked with a happy smile, his voice strangely familiar as John turned and practically bumped into Charlie, the manager who had been leaning over his shoulder.

"Charlie! You work here?" John greeted cheerfully as he gave the older man's hand a firm shake.

"The manager, in fact. I got your little hello you had passed on, figured I'd run into you sooner or later- didn't expect for it to be this soon, though"

"Oh, yeah, well, we're looking to buy a few things"

Sherlock waved none too happily at the manager, who obliviously waved back with a huge smile.

"How are you liking the house so far, then?" Charlie asked the two men despite looking directly at John, who smiled back.

"It's lovely- really lovely. Great view and the perfect size for the both of us. All it needs is a telly to make it even better"

"Telly? I can help you with that!" A man who appeared to be around John's age wearing the store's uniform cheered, setting down the box he had been carrying in favor of walking over to John, Charlie, and Sherlock.

"This is my son, Ben. He helps around the shop whenever he's not running off with the girls in town" Charlie said with a pat on his son's shoulder, that of whom didn't pay him any mind and raised a hand out to greet John.

"And boys" Ben added with a wink at John, who glanced over awkwardly at Charlie, who in turn simply shrugged. Right, no homophobes.

"Right, well, nice to meet you Ben, I'm John, and this is my.. significant other, Sherlock" John finished after a small pause as he decided that's really what they were, or at least something close to it anyway.

"Hello" Sherlock said shortly as he went back to looking at the next television set that sat beside the one he had already deemed unworthy.

"Hi?" Ben more asked than greeted, his face the definition of confusion upon watching Sherlock do his thing, which just so happened to involve smelling the screen.

"He's.. a consulting detective- likes to touch things" John explained with a quick glance at Sherlock, who was now lifting the television to look under it for any abnormalities.

"Right. Well, I've got some you might be interested in over here" Ben said with a smile and wave in the direction to the other television sets while Charlie walked up and over to Sherlock, curious as to what the young lad was doing to his television sets.

"Umm... yeah, might as well narrow it down a bit for Sherlock" John decided with a small, polite smile as he followed Ben to the back and over to a few larger televisions. "I don't suppose you have some water proof covers for these- or even for pick up trucks, would you?" John inquired, knowing Sherlock would throw a fit if they put it in the back without some form of protection- probability of rain or something, he would go off on.

"Actually, I do. I saw your truck out front- looks about the same size as my old one if you want my extra cover?" Ben offered as he looked directly at John, something in his eyes making the smaller man almost uncomfortable as he hesitantly smiled back.

"Yeah, that would.. be great, thank you"

"Good! Follow me, I've got it in the back"

-0.0-

"Here you are" Ben cheered as he pulled out the cover and hopped down from the shelving unit he had to climb up to reach the old thing.

"Ah, it looks perfect, thanks again for this" John blurted quickly as he reached for the cover, feeling the sudden need to get back to Sherlock and out of the small storage closet.

"No problem! So uhh.. that friend of yours.."

"Boyfriend- he's... my boyfriend"

"Right, that _boyfriend_ of yours. Does he.." Ben started to ask, forcing John to back up a little as he approached until the doctor found himself backed against one of the shelves. "..give you what you want? What you _need_?"

"Oh umm, I'm not really sure I understand the question" John confessed, his mind reeling as panic bubbled inside of him.

"I can't imagine a man like that being able to make you scream with ecstasy"

"Ohhh kay!" John suddenly shouted, his skin prickling and breathing beginning to grow heavy as he slipped out from under Ben's weight while clutching the cover tight enough to turn his knuckles white. "I'm flattered, believe me, I really am, but I'm just not into that kind of thing, and even if I were, Sherlo-"

Ben promptly grabbed at John's arm and spun him around so that they were facing one another.

"He doesn't have to know" Ben added, as if it would change the doctor's mind.

"Right, well, I'm really just not interested, sorry" He apologized as he slipped out of the storage closet only to run right into Sherlock, literally.

Sherlock looked down at John with a quizzical look, while John tried to appear as neutral as possible, knowing he must have failed when the detective snapped his head over to look at the manager's pouting son.

"Touch him again and I will infect you with the plague." Sherlock hissed while ripping the cover out of John's clutch and throwing it at Ben's feet, that of whom was now white as a sheet, something in Sherlock's eyes telling him he was serious.

"Come on, John." Sherlock barked as he pulled at John's hand somehow reassuringly as they walked straight through the store and out the front door, not stopping until they were both in the truck, rain pouring down around them.

"Sherlock, let me-"

"John. You don't have to explain, I know what happened."

John looked down at his lap and rubbed his hands together, and uncontrollable frown across his features as he tried to calm his racing heart. Then, with a heavy sigh, he looked out at the rain and bit his cheek, vaguely aware that Sherlock was gripping the steering wheel but seemed to have no intention of going anywhere.

"Sherlock..." John tried again a few minutes later as they still sat there, the truck being pelted by rain and what appeared to be small hunks of hail.

"Just.. give me another minute, John..." Sherlock begged quietly, his eyes screwed tight and lips pulled taught and thin as he just sat there, releasing his frustrations out on the steering wheel in silence in an attempt to not startle the worried doctor beside him.

"Okay.." John's voice cracked and he cringed, but otherwise made to other sudden movements as he stared at the windshield and watched the water and ice collide down on their vehicle.

"This was... supposed to be a safe place for you..." Sherlock said slowly, his hands twitching around the steering wheel as his anger peaked again.

"It's not like he would have gone anywhere with it once he realized I _really_, _honestly_ was _not_ interested- he must have just... read me wrong, or something" John tried explaining, he thought he had handled it pretty well, considering..

"Yes, and how long would it have taken him to realize that, hmm? When he got his hand down your-"

"Sherlock. Please. Just drop it... I'm fine"

"Fine? You're not _fine_, John. Far from it. You scream in your sleep, you're constantly looking around because you're paranoid, you jump if I try to touch you too suddenly, and back at Baker street you almost tried to kill yourself."

Silence filtered through the truck between the two men, the only noise being the weather outside as it grew louder, the sound almost sounding as if mother nature herself, were angry.

John looked out his window with dull eyes, the dreary storm clouds matching how he felt inside.

Sherlock slowly released the steering wheel and looked down at nothing in particular, an overwhelming feeling of regret pooling at his stomach and suddenly he wished he could take his words back.

"John, I-"

"Save it. I'll find my own way back"

Sherlock watched with wide, weary eyes as John opened the door and slipped out into the storm.

"Wait! John, this isn't safe!" Sherlock yelled over the sound of rain and hail, wincing as ice chunks crashed down on him and raising a hand to protect his eyes. Meanwhile, John kept on walking, his coat now being used as a shield against the storm as he held it up over his head.

"Please! Please, please, please, please, please, please, please! John, wait!" Sherlock shouted out as he ran up in front of the shorter man, grabbing the coat from the doctor's hands and instead holding it up himself over them both in an attempt to stop John from going anywhere.

"Let go, Sherlock!" John growled, reaching up to hold the coat despite it being uncomfortably high up for his shorter structure. To make it easier, Sherlock leaned down, compromising for the height difference.

"No! I won't let you go out alone while it's like this!"

"Why? Because I can't protect myself!? Because I'm weak!? Because I'm paranoid Moriarty is just going to pop up with his stupid big grin and criminal employees at any second!?"

"Because I'm afraid to lose you!"

John looked startled for a moment before he gained his ground and looked skeptically at the detective.

"Damn it, John- that's my fear. I'm afraid I'm going to lose you- in some way or another- and I can't... I just can't deal.. with that ever happening.."

"Sherlock... for a genius you can be a real idiot..." John breathed as he let go of the coat and rested his forehead against Sherlock's chest, his hands circling around the detective in an embrace.

"I know.." Sherlock confirmed, giving the top of John's soaked head a kiss which lasted a lot longer than he had originally intended.

"There you are! I was afraid you'd left!" Charlie shouted as he approached, using his own jacket as shelter from the mix of rain and hail. "I just wanted to apologize for my son's behavior- he may be a grown man but he still acts like a child who thinks he can get whatever, and, in this case.. whoever... he wants. As an apology we'd like to give you the telly, and a cover, free of charge"

"That won't be necessary, we'll be going elsewhere for our purchases today, thank you" Sherlock said coolly, scowling as John broke the hug in favor of turning around to meet the older man with a smile.

"Ignore him- he lost all right to complain back at the truck, we'd love to take them"

"Oh good, I was worried we wouldn't be able to make it up to you" Charlie chuckled out, oblivious to the glares Sherlock was throwing his way.

"No, no, don't worry about it- it's in the past"

Charlie shifted to make extra room under his coat, which John gladly took as they walked back up to the store, leaving a grumpy Sherlock to walk by himself close behind them, what looked to be a permanent scowl plastered to his face. Damn John and his stupid social niceties.

-0.0-

As it turned out, Sherlock and John not only got a free television, but two large chairs and a coffee table as well, all of which were left up to Ben to install and piece together back at the house while Charlie, John, and Sherlock stood at the counter making small talk. Well, Charlie and John made small talk while Sherlock sat exceptionally close to John while glaring at Ben every time he came into view.

"It's all set up" Ben informed, walking into the kitchen only to walk right back out as he caught sight of Sherlock's death glare.

"Right, well, we best be off then! Enjoy your show, looks like you still have ten minutes or so to spare before it comes on" Charlie said with a wave as he walked over to the door where his son was waiting a safe distance away from the detective.

"Thank you so much for everything!" John shouted back, waving while they waved their goodbyes and disappeared out into the hail storm.

"Ten minutes my arse, I've only got six" The doctor grumbled as he scurried on over to the telly, turning it on with a push of the remote control.

"You're too nice, John" Sherlock grumbled as he fell back into the chair he had picked out- a simple black recliner that supposedly complimented John's black and white club chair.

"Yeah? Well, my show is on today, and I intend to watch it, no matter what it takes." John huffed as he fell back into his chair, the television going off about some commercial or another.

"Oh, right, you're not nice- you're just a die hard fangirl"

"Fan_boy_" John corrected with a glance and point to Sherlock, who in return let the left corner of his lips stretch upward.

-0.0-

"Did they just-..." John blurted his half thought, his mind still not completely processing what just happened as his favorite show came to a close. "They couldn't have..."

"Apparently they could" Sherlock piped in, bored out of his mind at how stupid the show John supposedly loved was as he lolled his head to the side and fiddled with his fingers against the chair, having stopped tapping his foot halfway through the episode when John threatened to kick him out of the room.

"They just _killed_ my favorite character!" John exclaimed, still staring at the tv as it broke to commercial.

"Yes, does that mean we can stop watching this ridiculous show from 12 to 1 every Monday afternoon?" Sherlock pleaded as he leaped out of his chair to pace, his mind needed an outlet, a puzzle, _something_ challenging to focus on.

"Oh no.. you're going to start ranting off deductions now, aren't you?"

"I can't help it, I need to focus on something interesting."

"You could.. focus on you're breathing? Go, run into town and back a few times?" John offered, gesturing to the door with a small wave, his mind focused on other things like the loss of his fictional soul mate.

"There's a storm overhead, John." Sherlock seethed, as he quickened his pace and made his strides shorter.

"Okay, then, invent something to make the sun come up, anything, just let me mourn in peace"

"Mourn _later_."

"_You_ mourn later."

"What are you talking about? I'm not mourning!"

"Yes you are- over your little murder cases"

Sherlock stopped his pacing and looked over at John, who was simply watching the tv rant on about moisturizing cream as if he didn't have a care in the world.

"John, I don't regret it, if that's what you're thinking"

John reached for the remote and turned the television on mute, deciding this might be an important thing to pay attention to. "I wasn't... until just now"

"I don't... I'll never regret it" Sherlock said quietly as he took just one small, unobtrusive, step forward while still managing to make John feel oddly crowded given the weight of their topic of choice. He wasn't really ready for a heart to heart about that quite yet... but it appeared to be happening anyway.

"You don't have to regret it, Sherlock. I understand if you want to go back up to London, solve some more murders and all that. I know you don't think so but I _can_ manage on my own"

Sherlock scoffed, as if even the idea was ridiculous while John flashed him an unamused glare.

"Sherlock, I know you're missing it- and it's only going to get worse the longer you're away. You're young! You've got, all the time in the world to chance bad guys, track down Moriarty, forget Greg's name, and insult you're brother. Why shouldn't you go back to it before you drive both of us absolutely insane?" John shrugged, his appearance making it seem as though it wouldn't effect him at all, but Sherlock knew better- knew _John_ better.

Swiftly, Sherlock swooped down to the floor right in front of John, kneeling at the doctor's feet as he peered into John's eyes and leaned forward, the both of them now at eye level.

"I already told you I can't live without you, John, don't be so obtuse." Sherlock groaned rudely despite giving John a quick peck on the nose before standing back up again to continue pacing.

"I do need _something_ though"

"You could go run out and play with the bees" John mumbled under his breath, hiding a tiny smile behind his hand as he watched Sherlock pace.

"Bees!" Sherlock exclaimed with a snap of his fingers which followed through to pointing at John. "Yes. We can dissect them."

"You... could... or you could, I don't know, sell their honey? Like most people who own.. bee farms.. do?" John said in short little snippets of thoughts as his mind kept veering off to Sherlock inventing a new, extremely deadly, poison off of his research on bee venom.

"Even better! What else can we do, keep the ideas coming"

"Umm, well, we still have to learn to cook?"

"Yes, and?"

"And... we could find the closest theater and see a film or two? You can practice deductions in the dark while I, for once, actually enjoy a good show with you in silence? Assuming you can get through it without getting us kicked out, again"

"We will find out- next?"

"Umm... I don't know, Sherlock, can't you just Google things to do, or something?"

"Google!" Sherlock stopped, his face going blank like it usually did when he was working something out in his mind before quickly snapping back to life again, his hand reaching out to pull the doctor up and out of his chair. "Internet! We need internet! The closest shop that sells computers is approximately 10.4 miles from here, we can get there in half an hour given the weather- let's _go_ John! Hurry it up!" Sherlock ranted, frustrated when he had to turn around and wait for John, who had gone back to shut off the telly.

At that John decided to set the remote down agonizingly slowly, followed by taking one, steady, and painfully slow step at a time.

"John."

Step...

"John, _please_"

….Step...

"John Hamish Watson."

…...st...ep...

"John, I am begging you- if you don't hurry it up I _will_ pick you up and carry you"

"I'd like to see you try" John challenged as he crossed his arms defiantly, not even bothering to take another step until Sherlock advanced forward, initiating a chase around the house when John retaliated with a step back.

Ten minutes later...

John sat panting in the passenger's seat, his door child locked despite having given up on trying to escape the second Sherlock hoisted the doctor over his shoulder and literally carried him out into the truck.

Sherlock used his key to unlock the driver's door and jumped in, taking shelter from the rain- thankfully the hail had stopped- after having to run back inside to grab John's coat and shoes.

"You know, you're a lot stronger than you look" John pointed out as he grabbed his shoes and coat out of the detective's hands so he could start driving.

"Thank you. You're a lot more stubborn than most people seem to think"

"Not a compliment, but thanks for trying"

"Isn't it?"

"No, no... it's really not"

"Oh, that's dull"

Turning on the car and pulling out of their muddy driveway, Sherlock merged onto the main road, their destination being a computer shop about half an hour's drive away.

"This weather is really bad, Sherlock... are you sure you don't want to just go back home, start up a fire, and drink some hot cocoa?" John asked as they drove down the muddy streets, uncharacteristically slow and carefully on Sherlock's part, for which John was rather grateful.

"I'm sure- my mind is _reeling_ for something to focus on and it's killing me."

"Alright, but if we get into a car accident- don't say I didn't warn you"

"There's hardly anything to hit along this road, John"

"Never know- a child, could... I don't know, run into the street or something"

"Yes, because there are so many children outside"

"I used to go run out in the storms as a kid"

"...I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that"

"Pity, I was looking forward to calling you _mum_"

If he weren't driving, Sherlock would have sent a glare John's way, but since he was, he instead settled for a pout, which John immediately smirked at before looking out the window and up at the sky.

-0.0-

An hour and a half later, Sherlock and John were running up to their front door, Sherlock quickly pulling out the key to unlock it while John kept their new laptop and wifi system safe from the rain by burying the bag under his coat.

Slipping the door open, Sherlock held it out for John as the doctor ran through and shivered at the sudden temperature change from going out in the cold rain to the nice warmth of the indoors.

"I hope you know how to set this up, Sherlock, because I haven't got a clue" John confessed as he pulled out the wifi system and turned the box over in his hands while Sherlock shrugged off his coat, scarf, and gloves.

"I have a general idea- and an instruction manual"

"Right, you have fun.. with this.." John huffed as he handed the wifi box and bag with their laptop in it, "while _I _make us some tea"

Sherlock looked down at the electronics, then up at John who was removing his shoes and sighed, "We don't have a kettle yet"

John stopped his actions for a brief second, then looked to Sherlock like a kicked puppy. "You're joking"

"I didn't want to buy one from... Charlie" The detective hesitated at "Charlie", obviously deciding against saying something, or rather, _someone_ else.

"You _sacrificed_ my cuppa because you don't like Charlie or his son?" -Insert John's bitch face here-

"Oh, don't be so dramatic!" Sherlock scoffed as he swept into the living room and over to the second cable chord which sat conveniently in the corner by the windows.

"Oh so what? You think I'm overreacting, is that it?"

"Yes"

John stood by the door for a few more seconds, then slipped his shoes back on and stalked up to Sherlock, his hand extended. "Give me the car keys."

Sherlock glanced up at the doctor, then continued to fiddle with the wifi box, taking out all of the pieces. "Never drive angry"

"If you don't give me the car keys I'm walking."

"And you don't think you're overreacting?"

"Damn it, Sherlock!" John tensed, his eyes focused intently on the man who wouldn't even bother to stop messing with the wifi system throughout their conversation.

"We can go after I finish setting this up" Sherlock offered, it should only take ten minutes or so to set them both up, anyway.

"No, I want to go, _alone_"

Releasing a deep, frustrated, breathe, Sherlock nodded his head over in the direction of the mud room. "Coat pocket."

"_Thank you_" John sighed as he walked back over to the door, grabbing the keys out of Sherlock's right pocket along the way.

"Don't forget money" Sherlock mumbled as he inspected the wifi system and all of it's.. thingies. If he had ever known anything about them, clearly he had deleted the information.

"Ah, right" John grumbled, going back to Sherlock's coat to grab some and then back over to the door and twisting the handle.

"Be back within the hour"

"Right"

And with that, John opened the door and walked out. A few minutes later Sherlock heard the car start up and pull out of their driveway, then brought all of his attention back to the wifi and laptop.

-0.0-

Two hours came and went, but there was still no sign of John..

**-0.0-**

**A/N: TBC! Reviews are awesome! **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Sorry it's so short! Wrote it last night and haven't gotten a chance to add onto it but I just wanted to get this out there for anyone who's interested! **

**-0.0-**

Sherlock paced back and forth around the living room, trying to conjure up reasonable explanations as to why John wouldn't be back yet. It had been two and half hours and there was still no sign of the ex-army doctor.

"Perhaps he got lost? Ran out of fuel? Stopped for a bite to eat? Hit a small child? Was kidnapped by Moriarty all over again- I can't stay here" Sherlock muttered to himself, his pacing stopping rather suddenly and he turned to the direction of the door. Quickly, he reached for his coat, freezing in the movement as he heard a car faintly through the storm.

Running over to the window, Sherlock could see John pulling into the driveway.

The detective looked around frantically for something to assist him in looking "Natural" when John walked in, settling for turning on the tv to some random channel, he didn't care which, and curling up into his chair, eyes glued to the screen unseeingly as he listen to John walk up to the door.

Annoyingly casually, John stepped into the house, soaked to the bone and with a bag in his hand which contained one kettle, and something... else... small, tucked away towards the bottom of the bag...

Sherlock would have to actually look to tell, but being he was Sherlock, he stubbornly glared at the screen instead.

"I'm back! And... soaked, it's really coming down out there"

No response.

John shrugged off his coat and hung it up, painfully aware that the water had soaked through to his jumper- he'd have to change if he didn't want to catch a cold.

"Sorry I'm late, I got lost on the way there, had to stop and ask directions"

Oblivious to Sherlock's frustrations, John slipped his shoes off, setting them on the shoe rack neatly before walking into the living room and waving his bag around. "Got the kettle- also picked something up when I stopped for directions, sweet little shop, the girl I talked to said it's been passed down through her family for generations"

Still, the detective kept his head straight, ignoring the bag being swung around in his peripheral vision.

"It's for you, you know" John tried with a sheepish smile as he leaned into Sherlock's view, who promptly turned away, his arms crossed over his torso.

"You're not going to start listing off deductions as to what it is? Or do you already know and not want it? Sorry, it is kind of silly.. Just made me think of you, I guess" John carried on talking, completely unaware of how distraught Sherlock had been as he waited around for the doctor, imagining the worst possible scenarios.

"It's small, relatively thin, flexible, could easily be passed over when laying flat, so most likely paper of some-" Sherlock stopped and jolted his head over to John, who had a stupidly amused grin stretched lazily across his face.

"Sheet music"

John rubbed the back of his neck and glanced away, a small smile still slipped across his lips.

"Yeah, well... the shop was full of antiques and things, but up front they had a bit of music pieces. I know you left your violin back at the flat, but.. maybe when you get a new one you'd like to play it..?" The doctor asked shyly as he reached into the bag and pulled out the old violin music sheets.

Sherlock reached out slowly for the music and looked it over with a small smile. "Mendelssohn.."

"Yeah, it was one of the only one's I recognized, I hope it's okay.."

"It's... fine- good, actually..." Sherlock spoke softly as he looked through the music, the sudden urge to play the violin flooding to his finger tips.

"I don't forgive you, though" Sherlock deadpanned while continuing to scan the old papers.

"Forgive me? Forgive me for what exactly? Getting upset earlier? You know how I am when I don't get my cuppa"

At that, Sherlock flopped the papers on the coffee table and leaned forward in his chair while looking pointedly at the ex-army doctor.

"You were late"

"I was _lost_" John defended, his brows furrowing.

"How was I supposed to know that?" Sherlock argued, thinking back to how nerve wrecked he was for an hour and a half as he waited for John to ask for some stupid directions and probably stop to chat while he was at it.

"We don't have phones yet, Sherlock- how was I supposed to tell you? Smoke signals?"

"That would have been one option, yes"

Finding this all a bit hilarious, John chuckled, soft and with a nod of his head.

"Okay, Sherlock, next time I'll light up the antique shop and tell you I'm lost VIA smoke signals, alright? There, problem solved" John smiled and walked between the coffee table and Sherlock to get through to the kitchen, only to be stopped when Sherlock stood up to block his path.

"John."

"Sherlock.."

"May I hug you?"

"May you what?"

"Hug- you know, embrace?" Sherlock explained while making an air gesture of what a hug looks like.

"Yes, I know what a hug is, Sherlock, I mean why are you asking?"

"May you what? -and- Why are you asking? Are completely different questions John"

"Alright, I'm an idiot, I get it- you don't have to ask to hug me though, Sherlock"

Taking that as a yes to his original question, Sherlock wrapped his arms around the doctor, pulling the smaller man flush up against his chest.

It was cold and wet thanks to John's adventure out into the storm, but to Sherlock it was exactly the reassurance he needed that John was back and he was _safe_. "I was worried.." He said quietly into John's wet jumper, making the doctor shiver at the vibrations and sudden heat from Sherlock's body temperature.

"..I'm sorry..." John apologized, raising his free hand to wrap loosely around Sherlock's back.

"We can get phones tomorrow.."

"Good..."

With a deep breathe, Sherlock leaned out of the hug, his hands resting on John's shoulders for just a moment longer after John let his own hand fall to the side, and Sherlock followed suit. "Now, go take a shower and change before you catch cold- I'll make the tea" The detective offered with a small smile as he grabbed the bag from the doctor's hand, who in return looked at Sherlock like he had grown a second head.

"You're going to make tea?"

"Yes"

"You, Sherlock Holmes-"

"I do believe we have established that, yes"

"... Do you even know _how_ to make tea?"

"Just go John, I'll take care of it"

Sherlock moved out of the way and rested his palm flat against John's back, giving him a gentle push in the direction to the bedroom.

The doctor made it half way through the dining room when he turned back, a smug look on his face. "You're going to search how to on Google, aren't you? Now that it's all set up, is that it?"

"YouTube, actually- now _go_" Sherlock corrected, waving John off as the doctor _finally _made it to the bedroom and closed the door behind himself.

The sound of the shower went off almost immediately and Sherlock reached for the laptop that had been perched on the far end of the coffee table. "...How to make tea..."

-0.0-

"Sherlock? Did everything turn out-" John stopped himself short as he opened the bedroom door to find Sherlock standing before him, tea in either hand.

"John. Which do you prefer- tea 1.." He held up the mug in his right hand. "Or tea 2?" He repeated the action only this time with his left, handing them both out in front of the recently showered doctor.

"Umm.. well, I'd have to try them first, of course..." He mumbled with a quirked eyebrow at the extended hot beverages, taking the one from Sherlock's right hand first and bringing it to his lips to take a sip. Sherlock leaned over further as he took a calculating gaze of John's reaction, that of whom was paying more attention to the detective's looking than the tea.

"Taste's like tea- good" John informed the scientist, who apparently was very interested in this tea testing for whatever reason.

Sherlock nodded and switched out the tea's, staring intently while John took a drink from the next one, a little less suspicious now that he knew it was actually tea- well, that it tasted like tea anyway. "Hmm.. second one I suppose"

"Interesting" Was all Sherlock said as he left John with tea 2 and wandered back over to the kitchen where the doctor could now see looked like a mess, ingredients, plastic utensils, and plastic cups with strange colored fluids sitting in them scattered about. Home sweet home..

"What exactly is the difference, then?" John asked as he looked over the ingredients, none of which particularly looking like they should be used in tea. More just looked like Sherlock grabbed everything out of the cabinets and fridge and just sat them, all seemingly open, on the counter.

"Oh nothing" Sherlock rid the question of as he tossed the rest of tea 1 into the sink, which John was _very_ aware of and made the doctor look down at the tea he had almost entirely consumed.

"What was that? Aren't you going to try it?"

"Hmm? Oh no, no" Sherlock said quickly as he took the rest of the liquids, tossed them in the sink, and threw the cups away.

"...Why not?" John asked cautiously, setting down the rest of his tea on the counter, suddenly feeling rather worn out.

"John, you might want to sit down, you're about to pass out"

"_What _did you do to me, Sherlock?" John demanded to know, light headedness beginning to take affect as he leaned against the counter and glared at the detective.

"Simple remedy. Should help with the nightmares- that was in tea 1, and tea 2 is what's making you light headed and will knock you out in about 12 seconds given the amount you drank"

"When I wake up I'm going to punch you... in... the f..ace..."

Sherlock ran over to the doctor, catching him just as he fell into unconsciousness.

-0.0-

John woke up the next morning in his bed, alone and well rested.

Only problem was he couldn't remember how he got th- oh.. right. "Sherlock, you bloody dick head!" John yelled so that the detective could hear him no matter where he was in the house.

Jumping off of the mattress and rushing out into the dining room/ connected kitchen, John was only more furious when he saw Sherlock still in the kitchen- probably had been all night- and therefore still messing with food products and creating strange concoctions that should never be made.

"Good morning, John" Sherlock greeted, not bothering to look up from whatever it was he was making while John glared at him from the bedroom doorway.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't strangle you!" The doctor barked as he stalked up to Sherlock, who turned to face him last minute, a plate full of bacon, sausage, and scrambled eggs in his hands.

"Breakfast?"

Taken aback, John blinked a few times down at the offered meal, his stomach growling a little bit, craving a real meal.

"Oh, umm... You made this?"

"Yes"

"Is it drugged?"

"No, I still have the recipes pulled up on the lap top if you care to review what's in them"

Slowly, John took the paper plate. "What exactly did you cook this on? We don't have frying pans"

"Actually..." Sherlock lifted a frying pan in the air. "We do, I went out last night to get some, as well as spatula's and a few other things. I figured I would wait for you to wake up before getting any plates and silverware, though. You usually like picking out.. things" He finished with a wave as he started fiddling around again.

"Well.. thank you... but this doesn't make up for drugging me, you know that, right?" John asked with a raised eyebrow as he stuffed a fork full of scrambled eggs in his mouth.

Sherlock grunted his acknowledgment, then picked up the laptop and began searching something else, his need to keep busy distracting him from the simple things like eating and sleeping. Which is where John comes in..

"Have you eaten already?" John asked, casually glancing around the kitchen and inwardly groaning about what a mess it was in.

"Dull"

"Did you sleep last night?"

"Nope"

"Sherlock, you do know it's possible to be brilliant while also making time for eating and sleeping, right?"

"How would you know?"

John set his plate down on the counter and took a sharp breathe. It was just Sherlock being Sherlock, his mind eating away at him again. But still...

"Done with all the love confessions are we?" John half joked, trying to keep the mood at least somewhat light.

After several minutes of not receiving a response while Sherlock did.. whatever it was he was doing on the computer- John stretched and walked back into the bedroom, leaving his breakfast on the counter in favor of watching the outdoors with a blank mind from the comfort of his own bed.

**-0.0-**

**Hope you don't mind it being kind of short! Stupid Student Success Days XP**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Sorry for the short break! Here's the next chapter, hope you like it! Reviews are awesome you guys! Thanks so much!**

**Warning: Fluff**

**-0.0-**

Hours passed before Sherlock stopped his experimentation with an abrupt pause, the loss of John's presence only now dawning on him.

Where did he- ah, the bedroom.

Quietly, Sherlock tip toed over to the bedroom door, his breathing stopping momentarily in favor of listening to John's own reassuring breaths.

The detective waited until he heard the slow, soft, breathing of his lover from behind the door before gently pushing it open, not surprised when he found the doctor's head resting just in front of his arm, (had been holding his head up with his hand while looking out the window, it would seem) his soft snores filling the room while his body instinctively curled up in itself from the cold as his blankets lay forgotten on the ground.

Unable to resist a smile, Sherlock stood in the doorway, his back leaning against the door frame while his arms crossed over his chest, the detective's eyes, however, were nothing but calculating as he looked over the ex-army doctor with endearment, saving the image to his mind palace as he so often did with things involving John.

There was a tiny stir from the doctor, followed by a small noise of comfort that could easily have gone unnoticed if Sherlock hadn't been Sherlock, and suddenly the consulting detective found simply watching unbearable as he crossed the room and slid into the bed next to the doctor, grabbing the blankets along the way as he tossed it over himself and the sleeping man.

Loosely, Sherlock let his hand rest on the doctor's waist, prepared to retract it at any second if John so much as breathed a stutter. Luckily, he didn't, so Sherlock took it upon himself to close his eyes and simply feel the heat radiating off of the smaller man's back as he drifted off to sleep.

Several more hours came and went until Sherlock found himself stirring back into consciousness, the warmth of sunlight on his face letting him know that it was still before noon as his eyes blinked open.

Before the detective were pools of familiar dark blue, the beautiful irises large as sunlight danced throughout the room.

"Good morning" John greeted with a cheerful smile and endearing crinkling at the corners of his eyes.

"Good morning" Sherlock replied as he slowly reached up the hand that had somehow managed to stay around John's waist, if not a little higher than when he had first placed it there, to gently cup the side of John's cheek, that of whom leaned into the touch as Sherlock's thumb slid across the doctor's cheek bone.

With a lazy smile, John reversed the action with his own hand against the detective's face, followed by a gentle pull forward as John closed the distance, his eyes fluttering shut as he pressed his lips softly against Sherlock's for the first time.

Just like that, however, it was over, and John was pulling back, his smile only broadening when Sherlock stared back at him like a deer caught in headlights.

"Good?" John asked, a bit hesitantly as Sherlock seemed to look right through him, lost in his own mind palace no doubt.

Suddenly, the detective seemed to snap out of it as he propped up on his elbow and stared down at the doctor before placing his lips gingerly against John's own, this time experimentally moving them slowly as he calculated the way John's breath hitched, mixing momentarily with his own small moan as he broke their contact apart and met John's now dilated eyes with his own, no doubt equally dilated ones.

"Good" He confirmed with a smile and small peck to John's cheek before crawling over him and standing up to his full height.

"Now, what are you feeling as far as lunch goes?" Sherlock inquired breathlessly as he looked out their windows to see the sun smiling back at them from above the clear blue skies, the storm seemingly having passed from the day before.

"Sherlock.."

Sherlock turned his head over and down to look at the doctor who was sitting up in bed, his eyes focused on the sheets as he addressed the detective.

"You know, I... we... could umm... try more... umm... stuff..." John proposed sheepishly, his cheeks a light pink that contrasted adorably with his light, if not slightly tanned, complexion.

"John.."

The doctor looked over in the direction of his lover, surprised when he was in fact much closer than expected, the tall detective kneeling before him and reaching for John's hand, which he gladly gave him.

"I love you"

Slightly taken aback by the foreign words emanating from Sherlock's mouth, John's surprise quickly converted to heartwarming affection as he replied, "I love you too"

"and.." Sherlock added slowly as he let his forehead hit up lightly against John's. "..because I love you... I'm not going to let you pressure yourself into... that... until I know, and you know, you're ready... okay?"

John bit his lip and promptly looked away, his head disconnecting with Sherlock's as he looked down at their interlocked hands. "Sherlock... I honestly don't know what I'm ready for... or when and if I'll ever be ready to.. give myself to you completely... unless I- _we_, try.."

With another quick kiss to the side of John's face, Sherlock stands again to his full height and releases the doctor's hands from his own. "We'll just have to see how it goes, then" He decides, which in turn makes John huff a small laugh as he too rose to stand beside the detective.

"Not the cafe, they're probably not even open after that whole incident the other day, and I get the feeling a home cooked meal is out of the question- you probably destroyed the kitchen with your latest experiments" John mentions casually as he bends back down to look through his clothing for a suitable, clean, outfit, to put on. They'd really have to start doing laundry soon.

"It.. may be rather compromised at the moment, yes" Sherlock confesses as he glances out the partially open door he hadn't bothered to close earlier and peered out into the mess of a kitchen.

"Alright" John huffed as he pulled out the pair of jeans he had been looking for with a small, triumphant, smile. "Know of any Italian restaurants around the area?"

"I'll look into it" Sherlock decides as he shifts through the door and closes it gently behind himself, determined to buy himself time before John realized exactly what kind of condition the kitchen was in. Sherlock _may_ have gotten a little carried away with all of the food deterioration rates caused by different natural acidic chemicals he had been so focused on earlier.

Promptly, he sniffed, deciding where to throw everything before quickly getting to work at tossing things down the drain, out the back door, in the garbage, and deep within the expansive cabinets of the kitchen until, nearly ten minutes later, John walked out into the dining room/ kitchen, his teeth brushed, hair combed, and clothes changed. The doctor yawned as he stepped out of the bedroom, followed by walking over to Sherlock, who was holding a very deranged plastic spoon that just so happened to have been unlucky enough to fall into a jar of acidic jam behind his back, having not found a place for it quite yet.

"Did you clean?" John asked, a quirk to his lips as he looked over the counter to find the whole room oddly... organized- if not barren, despite the strange smells that seemed to seep through every crevice.

"Is the smell permanent?" He decided was a better question when Sherlock seemed to refuse to answer the first one, his hands stationed defiantly behind his back as he stared at the doctor from across the kitchen.

"No! No, umm... no, it's not- should clear out within the hour if we open a window" Sherlock finally answers just as John is about to open one of the cabinets.

"Oh.. kay" John claps as he goes over to one of the windows in the dining room, turning his back just long enough for Sherlock to dispose of the spoon into one of the drawers, the sound of it shutting catching John's attention as the doctor spins around, slightly startled.

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

"That sound... did you open a drawer or something?"

"No idea what you're talking about, John, let's hurry so we can beat the crowd" Sherlock rattles on quickly as he crosses the room and tugs at John's arm, dragging the confused doctor behind him despite his protests of having not opened the window yet.

Wouldn't make a difference anyway, the smell isn't going away until the decomposition is complete.

-0.0-

"Established in 1864, Speranza, Italian for hope, has been known to be one of the most exquisite Italian restaurants in the area. More importantly, however, the man who started the business actually murdered his wife on opening day, she had been sleeping with one of their valet's, that of whom murdered the husband two days later. Speranza was then passed down to their son, who renamed the establishment "Omicidio", Italian for murder. Ten years later, the son committed suicide and his wife took over, changing the name back to Speranza." Sherlock informed the doctor excitedly as they were seated at a table set for two after using Mycroft's security pass to acquire a table. Risky, yes, but they were hours from South Downs and Mycroft only gets slower as time goes on.

"That's... awful, actually.. where on earth did you learn that from, Google?" John asked as he looked around the ridiculously upper class restaurant.

"A book, actually, some years ago. I've always wanted to come but never had the time or..."

John looked over at the detective, confused as to why he was hesitating- Sherlock rarely hesitated.

"...the company.." Sherlock finally confessed with a glance elsewhere, refusing to meet John's soft eyes.

"Their loss" John shrugged, followed by a smile as Sherlock turned to stare at him, a smile forming across his own lips the longer blue looked into blue/gray/green/gold- a very complicated color, just like the man they belonged to.

"Might I offer you a bottle of our finest, Mr. Holmes? On the house" A young waiter with a thick Italian accent asked with a smile as he held out a bottle of crisp red wine.

"Yes, thank you" Sherlock nodded, glancing at John who was trying to hide his smile and failing as the waiter poured their glasses before walking away with a polite, "Gustare"

"You know this isn't exactly hiding, right? I mean, look at us, we stick out like a sore thumb! Well, alright, maybe not you with your ridiculously expensive suits but I, on the other hand, am not dressed to impress- not to mention Mycroft, and probably Moriarty, are going to find out about this sooner or later" John whispered, leaning across the table so that only Sherlock could hear him.

Sherlock smiled and mimicked John's movement, leaning forward across the table. "Oh please, you're one of the least conspicuous ones here. Look to your left- funeral gathering, all in black, mostly expensive attire, however, a few friends of the family and other not quite so well off members are certainly not "Dressed to impress". Of that group there are two mail order brides, one hooker, and six drug addicts high to the point where they're hallucinating, seemingly horrific events given their expressions as they stare at their water, several plants, and, in that particular young lady's case, the poor man next to her. She believes he stole her pony. As for the rest of the patrons, they're too captivated by their own affairs and self pity to pay any of us any mind- finding _themselves _to be the most conspicuous of the lot. Paranoia, it'll do that to you."

John turned to look peculiarly at the funeral gathering, just in time to see one of the young women slap a man across the face and growl, "Give me Pony Tony back!"

Why on earth a funeral gathering would go to a restaurant this pristine, John would never know. Sherlock, however, somehow knew it to be the favorite restaurant of the man who died. He would have explained it to the doctor, however, seeing as how it involved an affair and several orgasms in the restaurant's kitchen, Sherlock deemed it best to not unsettle the ex-army doctor currently sipping from his wine glass.

"That- is... incredibly strong, especially for wine- I feel like I've got a buzz going on, already" John pointed out with a huff as he set the glass down at stared at it's contents with a confused frown.

With a frown of his own, Sherlock bent over his wine and sniffed the glass before swirling it with a quirk in his eyebrow.

"Interesting"

"What? What's interesting?" John asked quickly, instinctively gulping the mouthful of wine he had just poured into his mouth, only now realizing that the strong taste might not be a good thing as Sherlock looked pointedly at the doctor's glass still in his hands. John followed Sherlock's gaze, the world starting to tilt a little as he looked down at the wine. He couldn't have gotten drunk after just that, could he?

"Not lethal, no worries. Just... well... don't drink any more, it would appear they've given us the wrong bottle."

John stared dumbly for a minute as Sherlock stared back, his eyes unwavering as he waited for John's intoxicated mind to catch up. "Oh god.." He finally muttered, his suddenly very light and almost unattached head coming down to rest in his hands.

"Shame, this restaurant will no doubt go under as soon as it gets out that they help supply the date rape drug to their customers." Sherlock muttered quietly to his companion as he looked out across the patrons, easily spotting who the wine was meant to be sent to.

John groaned into his hands, seemingly unable to conjure up an appropriate response as Sherlock swiped a phone from one of the passing waiters and sent off a quick text to Lestrade. May not be in his jurisdiction but no doubt he'll send the information to whoever is in charge around here.

"Well, we best be off, then. We can pick up some Italian take out on the way back" Sherlock proclaimed as he left the phone on the table and walked around to wrap his suit jacket around John before lifting the groggy doctor to his feet. Got to disappear before the police show up, after all.

-0.0-

"Is this going to be a regular thing, then? You drugging me?" John asked gruffly as he slowly fell out of his daze, having not taken enough for it to have affected his memory- hmm.. perhaps it simply wasn't one that affected the memory? _Perhaps_, if he had waited, there would have also been a corpse.

Date rape and a murder? That restaurant would definitely not see another customer again.

"I didn't drug you this time" Sherlock pointed out as he leaned over to check the doctor's pulse while said doctor groaned from the bed as two warm fingers pressed against his skin.

"No, I suppose you didn't- some random bloke did, god help me" John practically chuckled, the idea that everyone was out to mess with his blood stream being comical if not slightly worrisome.

"Oh! Right, yes! I have a series of follow up questions regarding yesterday's experiment with the tea." Sherlock proclaimed as he jumped to his feet and ran into the kitchen to grab the laptop.

"No, please no, Sherlock. Can't it wait, you know, until I have full movement of my limbs at least?" John pleaded as Sherlock sat on the edge of the bed beside the doctor.

With a huff, Sherlock closed his laptop and looked curiously out at their bees, his lips forming a straight line as he did so. Could be interesting, collecting honey, he supposed... while waiting for John to be able to move again, anyway, then back to the experiment...

Weakly, John reached up and grabbed at Sherlock's sleeve, catching the detective's attention. Bees will also have to wait, it would seem.

"Problem?" Sherlock asked as he quickly gave the doctor a once over, searching for any discomfort.

"No, no it's not that, just.. umm.. could you lay with me for a little while? Before you run off to destroy the kitchen or whatever it is you've got scheduled for the afternoon?" The doctor asked, his eye line low and to the floor where he looked upon the bags of Italian take out neither of them had the appetite for at the moment. John, because he was just drugged, and Sherlock, because, well, he was Sherlock.

"Of course" Sherlock said with a light kiss to John's temple before setting down the computer on the ground and sliding up behind John in their bed, his arms tentatively wrapping around the doctor, that of whom softly eased into the touch and let out a soft sigh as he felt the curls of Sherlock's hair tickle the nape of his neck.

"Sherlock.." John breathed softly.

"Yes?" The detective asked, kissing John's shoulder in the process, his wounded shoulder, just above where he predicted the bullet wound would be.

"About earlier today..."

"Yes? Are you not feeling alright?" Sherlock asked, suddenly in a panic- poisons do often have delayed results, especially when taken in small proportions- how stupid of him to not consider something else lurking in the date rape dru-

"No, it's has nothing to do with my health.."

Sherlock immediately relaxed back down into the bed, holding John ever so slightly tighter as if he could slip away at any second.

"Then what is it?" He mumbled into the crook of John's neck, the vibrations making the ex-army doctor squirm as much as his drugged body would allow.

"Today, at the restaurant, you just seemed so-"

"I'm not going back into consulting, John, we talked about this" Sherlock filled in the blanks for himself, immediately disregarding the doctor's concern. He was happy where he was _now_ with _John_- he would take it over being a consulting detective any day.

"I know we did, and I know you think this is going to be enough for you, but eventually you're going to run out of people you can deduce around here and-"

Sherlock grabbed John's shoulder and twisted him around, looming over the smaller man as he held him down by the shoulders and straddled his lap- not that he needed to be held down or anything, it wasn't like he could go anywhere if he wanted to. "John, breathe. Just breathe, and _think_. You know me better than anyone, do you really think I would just hop on a train with you if I wasn't absolutely _certain_ this was what I wanted?"

Despite being startled, John did as instructed and simply _breathed_, allowing the oxygen to reach his brain while he thought about everything that's happened between the two of them since the day they met back at .

"...Christ, Sherlock... I just... I'm so.. _normal_... and you're so... I'm sorry it's just... hard to believe, that you would be satisfied with someone.. someone like me.." John fumbled out, his mind whirring as he thought to all of their days together back in London, the crimes, the deductions, _Sherlock_... He was his own category where as John was... well, just an ex-army doctor that blended in with the crowd.

Sherlock promptly breathed a small laugh as he looked down at the doctor.

"You're far from normal, John, believe me. Normal people can't stand me and I can't stand normal people- you know this. Everyone who's met me knows this and _you_, John, are the only person I would ever go to these extremes for. So please, trust me when I say there is no where I would rather be, than here with _you_, _John Hamish Watson_, the man I've given my heart to."

John felt his heart melt a little at the words, god help him if Sherlock ever changed his mind on this because there's no way John could ever love anyone else after this ridiculous, childish, absolutely _brilliant_ man.

In a feeble attempt, John tried to reach for the back of Sherlock's neck, only to make it to the detective's waist before giving out and resting on Sherlock's hips.

"Alright, you're going to have to come down here to kiss me because I can't move that far yet" John sighed, pleased when Sherlock promptly cupped his jaw and angled his head up for desperate kiss, as if he'd been waiting to do that since their conversation started, possibly longer.

John let out a weak, heart fluttering noise from the back of his throat as he felt Sherlock's tongue slide across his bottom lip and opened his mouth to let him in, moaning into the kiss as he let Sherlock take control.

And then Sherlock broke them apart, his mouth hover just over John's as their breaths mingled.

"John.." He breathed, frustrating John to no end as his limbs refused to move in his favor and having no other way to pull Sherlock against him again.

"Sherlock.." He sighed back, deciding to put himself in Sherlock's hands since he couldn't really do anything himself.

"The umm... kitchen cabinets and such, uhh... they're full of decomposing.. items, that's where the smell is coming from.. I thought I should tell you before... before I tried kissing you again.." Sherlock confessed, slightly out of breath as he kept his eyes half lidded and focused intently on John's chest, watching it rise and fall with every breath he took.

His chest suddenly began to shake, however, as tiny chuckled rippled through the doctor's body, catching Sherlock's attention as he made eye contact with amused, lust filled, dark blue eyes.

"You didn't have to hide them, you know- your experiments, I was expecting to see them anyway when I walked out. Besides, I've seen much worse that decomposing "Items" as you've so put it, so long as it's not Ben you've got decomposing in our cabinets, I think you're fine to kiss me again"

"Hmm.. no, Charlie's son is safe... for now... Your jam, however-"

"You didn't"

"I did"

He couldn't help it, John smiled, and in return, Sherlock smiled, followed by planting a gentle, open mouthed kiss to John's lips, which he responded to rather enthusiastically.

They kept going on like that, soft, slow, open mouthed kisses for quite a while until it eventually began to die down to pecks, which eventually led to John falling asleep and Sherlock, who decided against going out to play with his bees, typing away at his computer with one hand while his other tangled slowly with lock's of John's hair.

**-0.0-**

**A/N: Thank you for reading! Reviews are lovely!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Hey! Sorry for the wait- I was in the hospital for a week and they wouldn't give me a computer cuz they're cheese butts but thanks for waiting! Kinda short but I just wanted to get this out there for anyone waiting for it! **

**-0.0-**

"John?" Sherlock called out quickly when he opened his eyes in a darkened room to find the doctor absent.

"John!?" He called out again, this time much louder as he stumbled out of the bed, barley landing on his feet as he ran out of the bedroom and still finding no presence of his lover.

Trying to calm his racing mind, Sherlock spun around several times, taking in any and all information he could find that might help him locate his missing blogger. "Lights in the living room are on, scuff marks on the door frame- weren't there before, left in a hurry yet quietly having it not woken me. Missing shoes yet the jacket is still here- wait. Why? Why would the shoes be taken but not the jacket? If he had left to take a late night walk, surely he would have taken his jacket. Couldn't have gone for a drive- the keys are still hanging. A kidnapper would have-"

The detective paused his ranting as he heard foot steps approach the door, the stride of the obviously short man all too familiar as the door handle twisted open to reveal a rosy red cheeked John who had clearly just gotten bitten by the icy wind.

"Oh- Sherlock? What are you doing awake? You were asleep, what, two minutes ago?"

John closed the door behind himself and sneezed, followed by rubbing at his arms while Sherlock composed himself and tugged at his own night shirt- all too aware of John's insufficient jumper which would do next to nothing given the wind chill outside at this time of night.

"You scuffed the door frame on your way out" Sherlock pointed out awkwardly, having overreacted at supposedly only two minuted of the doctor's absence. Always something...

"Hmm? Oh, did I? Sorry about that, I just wanted to get a look at the stars out here. Not nearly as much light pollution in the middle of nowhere" John smiled sheepishly as he pointed out at the sky, followed by another quick sneeze.

"You should have brought your jacket" Sherlock hissed half heartedly as he pulled off his robe and swung it over John's shivering shoulders.

"Didn't think it would be so bloody cold out there- thanks" John mumbled, pulling the warm robe tightly around himself before removing his shoes and waddling through the living room as if his joints were frozen.

Sherlock let out a breathy chuckle, followed by turning off the lights and making his way back to the bedroom where John was already rolled up in any and all blankets/ sheets he could find.

"Comfortable?" Sherlock asked with a raised eyebrow, a small smile tugging at his lips as he watched John's head poke out from under the covers.

"Very." John said defiantly as he rolled over to make room for the detective.

Sherlock gladly swooped in next to the doctor, the sudden warmth filling his senses despite John still shivering.

"You're going to catch cold"

"Bugger off"

With a snort, Sherlock wrapped his arms around John and pulled him in close, resting his cheek against the shorter man's thick blonde locks.

John huffed but didn't budge, instead letting himself be made as a make shift pillow and closing his eyes to drift off into a peaceful sleep.

-0.0-

"Achoo!"

"That's what happens when you don't wear a jack-"

"It was two bloody minutes!" John sniffled, cutting off the detective as he wiped his nose on his sleeve and pulled the blankets tighter around his shoulders.

"Long enough" Sherlock mumbled under his breath as he stirred the soup while John watched him pathetically from the kitchen floor, too wobbly to sit on one of the stools.

"What was that?" John asked, his voice stuffy thanks to his nasal congestion.

"It's almost hot enough" Sherlock covered for himself as he watched the chicken noodle soup begin to boil.

John made a noise of acknowledgment, followed by a groan from presumably his undoubtedly awful headache.

Wordlessly, Sherlock turned off the stove and poured a large portion of the soup into one of their plastic cups since they still hadn't managed to get around to finding actual god forsaken plates, bowls, cups, and silverware yet.

"Do you want to eat this in bed?" Sherlock asked softly, keeping his voice low in an attempt to not make John's head ache any worse than it already was.

"God, no- I'm never moving again, here is fine" John decided as he reached for the cup and spoon that Sherlock gripped tightly, clearly having no intention of handing them over to the sick ex-army doctor. Doctor's _are_ always the worst patients, it would seem.

"No, John. I don't want you to burn yourself" Sherlock explained as he lowered himself to the floor so that he was sitting directly in front of the groggy doctor buried in blankets.

"You're not going to try feeding it to me, are you?" John asked skeptically, groaning when Sherlock scooped up a spoonful and blew on it before holding it just before John's lips, indicating that that was, in fact, his intention.

"_John_" Sherlock said sternly, poking the doctor's pouting lips with the plastic spoonful of chicken noodle soup until John finally relented and enclosed his mouth around the spoon and it's contents reluctantly.

After swallowing, John leaned back and let out a weak cough- all he wanted to do was _sleep_.

"Come on, you have to eat something before I'll let you fall back asleep"

"Or I could eat _after_ I take a nap?"

"Eat the soup, John."

Sherlock held out another spoonful and after a short glare John ate it, realizing that he didn't really have much of a say in the matter so long as he was like this.

Quite a few spoonfuls later, John decided it was time to give up and fell back against the cabinets with a sigh. He had only eaten half of a cup's worth of soup but Sherlock figured it was better than nothing as he stood up to set the cup down on the counter.

"Can I go to sleep now?" John asked, his voice soft and still stuffy as his eyes blinked heavily up at Sherlock.

"Yup. Come on, let's get you go bed"

Sherlock wrapped John's arm around his shoulder and hoisted him up, blankets still stubbornly wrapped around the doctor as they began their journey back to the bedroom.

Upon reaching the bed, there was a knock at the door, and Sherlock suddenly froze in his movements, two hands still firmly placed on John's waist and arm.

"Sherlock? What's wrong?" John whispered, making it hard to understand what he was saying since his words were muffled with congestion.

"Stay here." Sherlock ordered, quickly setting John on the bed before sliding through the bedroom door and growling in frustration as he stalked up to the door. Opening it to reveal an all too cheerful Mycroft, Sherlock promptly grabbed his brother by the lapels of his jacket and shoved him hard against one of the exterior walls.

"How did you find us?" He sneered, words laced with venom while Mycroft called off his gunman that had his gun hanging out of the car window, ready to fire.

"Please, brother dear, we wouldn't want to startle the sick doctor, now would we?" Mycroft asked softly, any previous trace of a smile now completely gone since he was now sporting a rather severe head ache thanks to the impact of the back of his head with stone.

"Sherlock! Are you alright?" John called out in his stuffy voice from where Mycroft would correctly assume to be the bedroom.

"Everything's fine, John. Try and get some sleep" Sherlock called back through the house, none too surprised when John completely ignored him and patted to the living room, blanket still wrapped around him.

"Oh- hello" John gave a weak smile as he peaked around the corner to see Mycroft in Sherlock's threatening hold.

"Hello doctor Watson. Congratulations on your upgrade to physical intimacy with my brother- mummy will certainly be pleased to hear of it" Mycroft remarked, gesturing promptly to the unused mattress still sitting uselessly in the living room up against the wall. John blushed, but otherwise made no attempt at denying anything.

"I'll ask again- _how did you find us_?" Sherlock hissed, shoving Mycroft harder against the bricks. So that they were digging against his back

"Let's talk about this inside, shall we?" Mycroft choked out, risking a quick glance over at John who appeared almost too weak to stand- as if at any second his legs would buckle under him.

"I second that!" John causally tossed in there, not really sure as to what was going on but the wind chill drifting inside certainly wasn't helping the situation.

With an angry growl, Sherlock let go of his brother and made a bee line over to John, where he wrapped an arm around the smaller man's waist and guided him to his chair.

Mycroft brushed off his suit and then followed on inside, closing the door politely behind himself and hanging his umbrella up on one of the coat racks. "So how _did_ you find us, Mycroft?" John asked once he was situated in his chair, not bothering to look back at the older Holmes since his head was already spinning and turning would just make it worse.

"Well," Mycroft began, stepping into the living room as he did so and not bothering to look at his younger brother who was currently glaring daggers at him. "It would seem a retired government official I used to know lives in this town- this is top secret information, of course so we must keep this between us. Several days ago he contacted me about a young man and his... partner... who had recently purchased the house he was selling, in cash. He seemed to think it might have been of importance so I looked into it and, well, after having lost you at the second train transfer I was all too pleased to discover that this young man, was , in fact, you, brother mine. After confirmation I left straight away"

"You idiot. Moriarty will have followed you." Sherlock groaned in aggravation, his mind already whirring as to what they were to do next.

"Believe me- he hasn't. Moriarty has been... well... _busy_ since you left. I, may or may not have planted evidence suggesting his right hand man, Sebastian, was responsible for your kidnappings. He's being held in a private cell under careful supervision- no doubt Moriarty is doing all he can to find a way to either break him out or prove him innocent." Mycroft stated matter of factually as he broadened his shoulders and let his hands rest in his trouser pockets.

"Since when does Moriarty care about his underlings?" Sherlock inquired skeptically and with a raised eyebrow.

"It would seem... he's grown rather _fond_ of this particular pet, according to my sources and his reaction upon us taking Sebastian in." Mycroft glanced potently at John, as if trying to point out the resemblance of their relationships and reactions. It didn't go unnoticed. Well, maybe to John, who had at some point dozed off, it did- but it certainly peeved Sherlock.

"So you found Moriarty's weak spot... bravo" Sherlock found himself impressed, despite hating the feeling, especially toward his brother who simply smirked in reply.

"We might be able to strike a deal with him. Let Sebastian go if he were to agree to leaving the United Kingdom altogether."

"He would never agree"

"Wouldn't he?" The older Holmes stared directly at Sherlock, whose gaze then drifted down to John's curled up and sleeping form.

"Fine. Say he does, what then?"

"Then you're free to do whatever- go back to Baker Street, stay here- the choice is yours."

Sherlock didn't bother to reply, instead just watch as John nuzzled his face against the blankets he was consumed in. "That decision is up to John" He decided, a smile smile tugging at his lips despite the nagging feeling in his stomach that Mycroft was still standing there, staring at them.

"Alright, well, you know how to reach me if you need anything. I best be off" With a nod, Mycroft walked over to the door and opened it, followed by grabbing his umbrella and stepping out into the mild, cloudy, weather of Sussex South Downs. He was just about to close the door behind him when he heard a quiet, easily unnoticed whisper escape Sherlock's lips.

"Thank you, Mycroft"

Upon noticing that his brother heard him, Sherlock frowned, that of which only deepened when Mycroft closed the door with a much too genuine smile.

**-0.0-**

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Reviews are amazing and I hope you liked it! **


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Next chapter will be the last! Hope you like this chapter and the one that follows! Last chapter will likely be among one of the longer ones to make up for this shortish one!**

**-0.0-**

John woke up with a start, jolting up in his chair as he looked around to find the older Holmes vanished and no sign of the younger Holmes, either.

Wearily, John gripped his blanket and stood up slowly.

Taking one step at a time, John made his way out of the living room and into the kitchen/ dining area where he found their kitchen once again in another war zone- plastic, food, and metal Vs. their counter tops.

"Sherlock?" He finally called out, the mess in his kitchen pulling him out of his illness induced haze.

"Hmm? Ah- yes, that." Sherlock awkwardly mumbled as he poked his head out from where John remembered laundry machines were located.

"What are you doing?"

"Converting bee poison into a gas transference- It will seep into your skin at a single touch. I'm still in the liquid faze, however, once I-"

"No, that's great, and all-" John stopped himself and furrowed his eyebrows, trying to remember exactly what he was saying, where he was going with it, and _when_, exactly, creating new poison's in the kitchen became okay- had it been okay during the purple milk incident? He couldn't remember... "I _mean_, what are you doing in the laundry room?"

"Oh- that, well..." Sherlock blushed faintly and then pulled the door flush up against his body despite his head still being the only thing visible from John's position. "I might have... spilled some, on my clothing..."

"Are you alright?"

"Yes"

"Are you wearing any clothes?"

"No"

John pursed his lips and nodded slowly.

Sherlock bit his lip.

They both burst out in giggles.

"Here, take the blanket" John huffed out with a tiny laugh as he walked up to Sherlock and handed him the blanket, that of which the detective graciously took with a smile.

"Thank you"

"Yeah, well, if you really want to thank me we can go out and get a table for your experiments instead of using the counter where, you know, we put _food_ on. And I mean the food you eat not turn into science projects"

Sherlock snorted and, after wrapping the blanket around himself, walked out from behind the door. "Fair enough"

"Good- tomorrow, then?" John asked, followed by a short sniffle- at least his head ache had subsided.

"Umm, actually, John.." Sherlock said shortly, his gaze drifted from the doctor's eyes and instead focused more on his left shoulder where he knew a scar resided.

"What is it, Sherlock? Did your brother say something?" John asked, his brows furrowed as he tried to recall the conversation, only to realize he must have passed out rather early on.

"No-well. Yes, technically, but... There's something I have to tell you."

Now thoroughly worried, John nodded hesitantly before walking into the bedroom and gesturing for Sherlock to join him.

"If it's serious you might want to put some actual clothes on first" John pointed out as he dug through Sherlock's suitcase and settled on a pair of pajama bottoms and a t-shirt that looked an awful lot like the one John had lost several months ago.

"Yes I suppose it is rather.. serious" Sherlock decided, taking the articles of clothing and standing there awkwardly for several minutes before walking over to the bathroom and gently closing the door behind himself.

While he waited, John sat down on their bed and wrapped one of the sheets around his shoulders- they really needed to turn the heater up.

Several moments later, Sherlock emerged from the bathroom- blanket in hand and now fully clothed.

John went to stand, but stopped when he felt a hand rest on his shoulder.

"No.. here is fine"

John nodded and scooted over, making room in the middle of the bed which Sherlock took after wrapping the blanket he had been holding around John's small shoulders.

"It's about Moriarty..." Sherlock started, noting the way John visibly flinched at the name- certainly not what he had expected this conversation to be about, then.

With a sigh, Sherlock rested his right hand on John's left thigh and rubbed in an apparently soothing manner given the way John relaxed under his touch. "He's... preoccupied at the moment and will likely be made an offer he can't refuse..."

"And what offer is that?" John asked curtly, turning his head to meet Sherlock's eyes.

Sherlock took a deep breath, and then breathed out, "He would leave the United Kingdom eternally... which means..."

"Which means we can go back to Baker Street" John finished, quickly catching on. He smiled and looked out their bedroom window, suddenly realizing that would mean leaving their new home and honestly excellent view. He did love that view...

"Yes, but we could also stay here, if you wanted.." Sherlock added, his eyes never leaving John's face despite the doctor now being distracted by the setting sun outside their window.

"So.. that's what this talk is about, then? Deciding whether we should stay here or head back to London?" John asked, his brow quirking as he caught Sherlock's gaze once again- slightly shocked to find he was being analyzed.

"It's up to you"

"Sherlock, you can't leave me with that kind of decision- this is something that takes careful consideration from both parties and often times ends in a compromise" John informed the supposed yet obviously not, sociopath, followed by a quick and soft sniffle.

"As long as I'm with you... there's no place I'd rather be..."

"Those are lyrics from a song"

"No they're not" Sherlock stopped and scrunched his eyebrows together. "Are they?"

"Yes, they are"

"No- no they're not- I'd remember that"

"Would you now?"

Sherlock scoffed and John raised his eyebrows in a challenge.

"Alright, sing it, then" The detective challenged back.

"Know what? I will." John decided, glancing away quickly before clearing his throat and straightening out his back. "_No-no, no-no, no- no place I'd rather be, no-no, no-no, no- no place I'd rather be, as long as I'm with you, there's no place I'd rather be~_" John recited with a little bob of his head- his voice rough and muffled from his illness.

"Hmm... subconscious connection. No less true" Sherlock pointed out, trying his hardest to keep his face straight when John kept bobbing his head to the melody still playing in his mind.

"What was that? Oh- oh right, yes of course it is- was... is?" John tumbled over his own words, trying to snap out of his thoughts and get back to the moment. They were having a moment, weren't they? "Anyway! My point _is_ we have to make this kind of decision as a team or- couple, if you will"

"Alright, fine. John, what do you want to do?"

John promptly shot him a half-hearted glare.

"_Fine_. How would you feel about moving back to London?" Sherlock rephrased his question, knowing it was more along the lines of what John was wanting to discuss.

"Well... We've started to make more of a home here- even if we don't even have spoons yet... but Baker Street is where Mrs. Hudson is, and you have your consulting business there..." John looked over expectantly at Sherlock, that of whom simply stared back and made no attempt to join the one sided conversation. "Sherlock- this is where you're supposed to say what you're thinking.."

"Oh? Is it? I'm thinking it doesn't make a difference to me where we live so long as I can have you there with me" The detective shrugged, honestly having no preference from one over the other. Anderson canceled out with Charlie's son and the rest of their "friends" could always come and visit if they felt so inclined.

"Yes, alright, but what about solving mysteries, hmm? Crime scenes, blood splatter, infidelity cases.." John prodded in an attempt to get some sort of opinion out of the detective- get him to pick a side.

"Murder happens everywhere, and I'm sure Lestrade will be more than willing to video chat through an investigation if he really needed my help- if I were in the mood for it" Sherlock waved off, seemingly not finding it as important as John knew it to be- almost as if he had moved on or found something to replace his urge to engulf himself in puzzles.

John simply stared back, his mouth slightly open as he looked long and hard at the man who once put bullets through the walls in an attempt to cure his boredom. Dear lord he wasn't planning on doing that if they stayed, was he?

"You-" The doctor started, only to stop himself and purse his lips as he attempted to organize his thoughts. "You... you want to stay here, then?" He finally asked after mulling it over as quickly as he could manage.

"I never said that"

"You implied it"

"Mmmmm- no I didn't"

"Then you want to go back to Baker Street?"

"Never said that either"

John threw his hands up in defeat and let out a groan of confusion and frustration, not caring in the slightest when his sheet and blanket fell off of his shoulders- he had other things to worry about. "Alright, fine. We'll flip a coin, then" He decided, about to get up to go fetch one when he felt Sherlock wrap his hand around the doctor's wrist to get him to stay seated.

"No, I- umm... John, as you know, I am an incredibly selfish man- "

"Yes, I most certainly do know that" John sniffled.

Sherlock snapped his mouth shut, his impassive gaze somehow managing to give away his offense. However, he quickly composed himself and let out a breath as he intertwined their fingers together.

"Yes, well... I am- and when Moriarty took you and had his underlings do... _that_ to you- I knew immediately upon finding you that I would never want anything more than to be able to spend the rest of my life with you in one way or another. The thought of... of losing you.. whether it be from you breaking down as was Moriarty's goal or if you had.. had been killed- I... I don't think I could bare living without you- my incredibly strong, caring, loyal friend and now lover. John, I... If you'll have me..." Sherlock took a shaky breath and slid off of the bed so that he was on one knee, his hand still intertwined with John's as he looked up into confused yet excited dark blue. "John Watson... will you marry me?"

John's breath hitched before letting out a light hearted chuckle. His cheeks were tinted a light pink as he tried his hardest to keep a straight face despite his lips twitching upward uncontrollably. "No- definitely not. I could never marry a man who didn't offer me an enormous diamond ring- and another thing, where's my expensive dinner and preferably non-drugged wine? Worst proposal ever, Sherlock- really, this is- hmmph!"

Impatiently, Sherlock grabbed at the short locks of blonde hair on John's head and pulled him into a kiss, successfully cutting off his rant.

Sherlock felt John's smile against his lips and mimicked the movement before pulling away, unable to help himself.

"God, yes" John breathed, honestly answering the proposal this time before diving back in to press their lips back together.

John pulled the detective down on top of him on the bed, the weight of Sherlock on top of him surprisingly being more reassuring than anything else as he parted his lips for Sherlock's tongue to dance with his own.

"I promise, I will love you to the best of my ability for as long... as long as I live, John" Sherlock huffed out through stolen kisses and mingled breaths.

"We're not getting married quite yet, Sherlock" John pointed out with a breathy laugh as he gave Sherlock a kiss to the corner of his mouth, furrowing his brows when he felt the detective go rigid. "Sherlock?"

"You're right, John- of course! That's brilliant!" Sherlock proclaimed, giving John a big kiss to his lips before hopping off of the bed and running over to the door, only stopping when he heard the belated "Wait, wait, wait" from John as everything caught up with the doctor.

"What are you going on about?" John asked, his brows furrowed as he propped himself up on his elbows and looked over at the detective currently bouncing up and down on his heels at the door way.

"Marriage, John, it's brilliant! There's so much to plan- my mind is racing! _And_ as you've just pointed out, when we're married we can explore each other- At your own pace still, of course, however the thought is exciting nonetheless to have you as mine and only mine- selfish, remember?" Sherlock bounced one last time before racing through the door, presumably in search of their laptop while leaving a confused and quite obviously still turned on Dr. Watson on their bed.

Seconds later, Sherlock was back in their room, laptop in hand. "John- where do you want to hold the ceremony? We'll need at least two witnesses and if you so choose we could get it done quickly at the court house otherwise-"

"Hold on." John raised one of his hands as if to say "Stop" as he glanced up at the ceiling, disappointed to find it didn't hold all of the answers to his list of unasked questions. "We're not going to do anything... _sexual_, until we're married, you said?"

"Yes- you said so yourself just a minute ago"

"Pretty sure I didn't"

"Didn't you? Hmm- location of ceremony?"

John opened his mouth as if to bring the conversation back to his surprisingly still holding up erection and Sherlock's quite obviously matching one hidden behind pajama bottoms until he thought better of it and closed his mouth again. That, however, didn't stop him from internally hoping the detective found himself with the sniffles the next morning.

Sitting up, John leaned over to the detective to get a better look at what was on the screen- surprised to find several different locations already picked out for a potential wedding ceremony- stretching out from South Downs all the way back to London. Well, at least it was romantic, in a way... John decided, ignoring what was in his pants in favor of hooking his chin over Sherlock's shoulder and wrapping arms around the detective's waist as he looked over the options.

"I don't suppose we're inviting your brother?"

"Not a chance"

**-0.0-**

**A/N: Hope ya liked it! Next chapter will be the last and possibly considered the epilogue? Idk if that's the case then maybe this is considered the last chapter? Hmmmm~ Anyway thanks for reading, hope you liked it! Reiviews are appriciated and thanks all who have reiviewed so far you guys are awesome! **


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Last chapter! Sorry it took a while- the internet went down for a while and before that I was having a bit of writer's block since I wanted to keep the "sex" scene sweet and not rough like the other one! Hope you like it!**

**-0.0-**

Sherlock gave himself a look over in the mirror and nodded. Good, as John would say, it was all... good.

He wore a black tuxedo with a tail coat and light blue handkerchief resting perfectly folded in his breast pocket. His hair, usually an unruly mess of curls now lay somewhat tame against his skull after using a ridiculous amount of products and finally deciding that was as good as it was going to get.

With a deep breath, Sherlock reached into his pocket and pulled out the previously prepared, folded sheet of paper that had his vows written across it. Alone in his and John's room, Sherlock smiled- it was going to be the end of an era and thank god for that. He had been waiting for this day practically since he met the doctor, whether he realized it at the time or not.

Two soft knocks sounded on the bedroom door and Sherlock's smile disappeared, along with the paper he slipped back into his pocket. "Are you ready, dear?" Mrs. Hudson asked, poking her head through the slightly parted door. It was her job to make sure Sherlock arrived on time- not that he needed any help with getting to his own wedding, but John- who had left bright and early to make sure Lestrade wasn't moping over his failed marriage, had insisted.

"Quite"

"Oh my! Look at you, so handsome! I was wondering if the two of you were ever going to get wed" Mrs. Hudson cooed, smiling all the way out the front door as she tried to keep up with Sherlock's quick steps. They were already ahead of schedule, but that didn't make him any less eager.

"Yes, well, that is precisely what today is for, isn't it?"

Sherlock opened the truck door for Mrs. Hudson and gently closed it behind her as she got in, followed by walking around to the other side of the car and getting in himself.

It had been three months since the proposal. Moriarty had taken the deal to get Sebastian back and was long gone despite still being tracked by Mycroft's secret service.

It was of course Sherlock's idea to break the news that they weren't dead or kidnapped to the select few they cared about by sending wedding invitations, but John hadn't exactly put up a fight.

Several days later John woke up to a shouting Sherlock and a smothering hug from the one and only Greg Lestrade, that of whom Sherlock kept calling "Gerald", "Gary", and "Galester" no matter how many times he was correct throughout the inspector's visit.

All in all it turned out rather well- surprisingly Mrs. Hudson was the only one to give the boys a nice firm slap across the face for not so much as saying a proper goodbye. She had thought they were being hunted or something and was terrified of what she was supposed to say to the authorities- for all she knew they were exactly who Sherlock and John had been running away from! After several tears and a cup of tea, however, their land lady calmed down and congratulated them on their engagement.

Sherlock snorted at the memory as they pulled into where the wedding was to be held. A simple celebration where they spoke their vows and were united in a bond that would last a lifetime.

"My! This is _beautiful_, Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed with astonishment as she looked over the stone path that lead up to a dark wood patio- the whole thing covered in white, blue, and purple flowers. A small creek ran parallel to the patio and leas to a small pond off to the side, that of which had a dip of a waterfall on the end of it which ran right around the patio.

Several chairs were lined up in three columns and four rows along the stone path, that of which was to be where guests were to be seated- some of which already were, mostly by John's old friends from Uni, Molly, Stamford (Who John insists is to be his own category), and oh god- _Mycroft_. Damn John and his formal niceties.

"John picked it out" Sherlock commented with a smile as he saw said doctor sitting on one of the steps to the patio, his hand on Lestrade's shoulder as the detective inspector wept undoubtedly about his ex-wife.

"Well it's lovely" Mrs. Hudson smiled, a light blush across her cheeks as she watched Sherlock get out of the truck and walk over to his soon to be husband- that of whom wore a lovely white tux and matching blue handkerchief that Sherlock has.

"Good morning, John, Greysmere" Sherlock greeted with a nod at his husband to be and puffy eyed inspector.

"Greysmere? Really, Sherlock? Greg isn't that hard of a name" John lectured, clearly having a hard time at getting Greg to cheer up without Sherlock around to make things worse.

"Hmm? Oh, right, sorry Gollum. John, can I speak with you for a moment?"

John flashed Sherlock a glare before smiling triumphantly and rubbing Greg on the back reassuringly.

For a moment, Sherlock furrowed his brows in confusion until he heard the familiar gait of a certain member of the British government.

Rolling his eyes, Sherlock spun around to face his brother and assistant, that of whom texted casually on her phone as she fell two steps behind her umbrella swinging boss.

"Congratulations, brother dear" Mycroft smirked and suddenly Sherlock felt the need to punch his older brother right in his smug face- however, John wouldn't be too happy about him causing a fuss at their wedding so he refrained from doing so and instead clenched his fists at his sides.

"I don't suppose I could convince you to leave, could I?" Sherlock groaned, already knowing the answer- Mycroft wasn't going to miss this for the world, especially if he managed to catch a few tears at the alter.

"Not a chance" Mycroft grinned and Sherlock cringed- he would really have to talk to John about inviting his family members to, well, anything- especially Mycroft.

"_Wonderful_." Sherlock bit out, glancing back quickly at John who sent a not-so-apologetic look back as Lestrade began to cry into his shoulder.

"Sherlock. May I have a word?" Mycroft whispered as he leaned over to Sherlock, that of who's eyes seemed to light up with curiosity.

With a nod back at a much too comforting for his own good, doctor, Sherlock walked over to a much more secluded area with his brother and assistant, still following several steps behind while managing to not look up from her phone once.

"Alright, what is it? Here to warn me about the dangers of companionship?" Sherlock hissed, desperately hoping Mycroft wasn't going to be that predictable.

"Quite the opposite, in fact. I'm.. _happy_, for you, Sherlock."

"...Never say those words again."

"Agreed."

"Your parents have arrived" Mycroft's assistant piped in, only back away a few steps after doing so.

Sherlock looked over nervously as his mom and dad walked over to the two brothers, smiles ever so present on their faces. Mrs. Holmes quickly brought Sherlock into a hug, mumbling a quick "I'm so happy for you" while their father gave Mycroft a firm handshake and smile of greeting before the brothers switched off parents.

"John will be ever so pleased to see you- in fact, let's go greet him now" Sherlock tossed in through the greetings, hoping to make this as painless as possible by distracting them all with John's charm.

The detective gave a quick, depleting smile as his parents walked on ahead, whispering amongst themselves how beautiful everything was. Sherlock was about to follow when suddenly a hand came up and grabbed at his upper arm, forcing the younger brother to turn around and face his older sibling.

"Just be careful with him, Sherlock- he's the best thing that could have happened to you so don't go screwing it up" Mycroft warned before letting go of his brother's arm and standing up straight once more.

"I could say the same to you" Sherlock replied knowingly, his eyebrows only raising when Mycroft not-so-subtly glanced over at the weeping detective inspector.

Mycroft opened his mouth to make a retort, only to close it again and frown before walking off in the direction of John, Greg, and now their parents.

His assistant followed closely behind, stopping only for a quick moment to tell Sherlock- "Congratulations from Irene and me" Before continuing to walk closely behind her employer.

Sherlock smirked knowingly as he watched them walk up to an overwhelmed John who had just gotten bombarded with the Holmes' family, a divorcee', and an assistant that was of absolutely no help to him.

Reluctantly, Sherlock found it in himself to walk over and help out his soon to be husband, even if he only turned out to make matters worse in the end by arguing with Mycroft about what Greg's name was while said inspector was being cooed by Mr. and Mrs. Holmes' despite said inspector clutching desperately to his friend, doctor Watson as if he could fix his marriage if he squeezed him tight enough. Meanwhile Anthea, whose name wasn't really Anthea, kept Irene posted on what was happening while she did nothing to intervene.

-0.0-

An hour later Sherlock wound up at the alter, Lestrade on his left and some man John supposedly knew that was to marry them slightly back but nonetheless on his right. It's was Mrs. Hudson's idea to make John walk down the aisle- she had said she wouldn't go if she couldn't be the one to hand off one of the boys to the other, which of course meant John since Sherlock still wasn't trusted to make it down the aisle without smacking Mycroft across the head along his way.

As Sherlock glanced over at his smirking brother, he realized John may have been right about that last bit.

Then there was the sweet sound of the violin which Sherlock had insisted on, playing the sheet music John had acquired for him not too long ago- Mendelssohn, of course.

All heads turned toward the back and Sherlock couldn't stop the smile that stretched across his face as John walked down the pathway, Mrs. Hudson's hand wrapped around his arm. He looked breath taking, Sherlock now noticed without his brother there breathing down his neck or Greg suffocating the poor doctor.

With a sharp inhale, Sherlock reached out for John to take his hand. After doing so, Mrs. Hudson sent the boys a teary smile and moved to John's side, a tissue dabbing at her slightly running makeup.

John grinned almost childishly as he held Sherlock's hands with his own, followed by a quick nodding signal that he was ready.

"We are gathered here today.." The man who smiled a bit too fondly at John for Sherlock's liking began, looking none too pleased with the detective who had deduced his faulty marriage before the ceremony had begun. It's _hardly_ Sherlock's fault the man can't admit to himself that he's gay and his marriage is reluctantly trudging forward because of this fact.

Did John know his friend had fantasies about him at night? Hmm.. he would have to ask later- not now though, John wouldn't appreciate such an interruption before their- "Now for your vows" Ah, yes, those.

Greg walked up with the rings, his eyes still puffy from having been crying earlier, however Sherlock did notice a handkerchief hanging out of his pocket with the initials M.H.

Interesting.

Wordlessly, Sherlock grabbed the white gold ring that was to be John's and slipped it on the doctor's finger, resting his hands there as he thought back to the vows he had written earlier. Perhaps he should have asked for a second opinion on them he thought briefly, but it was too late now.

"John Watson, you are _without a doubt_ the best thing that could have ever happened to me.. and to think that-.. that you're still here is something that I wouldn't have dared to even dream about. John Hamish Watson, if you would accept me I vow to give you all that I am for as long as I live. You are my everything and I hope that I can be half as good to you as you are to me, for nothing can compare to the kindness, loyalty, and love you have shown and given to me so freely from the day we first met at St. Bart's."

John's eyes were watering and Sherlock was fairly certain his own were mirroring this. Several others dabbed at their eyes, but none compared to Lestrade, who was practically moaning behind the consulting detective and muttering something along the lines of "Why can't I have that? Why, god... why?"- successfully ruining the moment.

Sherlock looked expectantly at his almost husband and John promptly wiped at his eyes with his sleeve and cleared his throat. "Right, well- kind of hard to top that, I should think" He said with a smile, followed by several chuckles from the witnesses and a choked laugh from the detective inspector now blowing his nose- that of which Mycroft shouldn't have found quite so endearing, but he did.

"Sherlock Holmes. You are by far the most brilliant, caring- in your own way, charming, selfish, arrogant-" Sherlock immediately frowned, the expression only drifting to confusion as he heard some of the witnesses let out soft chuckles. "-supposed sociopath I have ever met and I couldn't be happier to have you in my life. I was so alone, before I met you, and I owe you so much. You've shown me the world through your eyes and were there for me in ways no one else has ever been and if you would accept me, I would give you everything I am"

A tear trailed down the curves of Sherlock's face and John's immediately followed, two steps behind, just like he always had been since they met. "Do you, Sherlock Holmes, accept John Watson to be your partner in life?" John's friend, who Sherlock never bothered to learns name, asked.

"Obviously" Sherlock scoffed with a glare at the closeted homosexual.

"And do you, John Watson, take Sherlock Holmes to be your life partner, _for all eternity_" The man added with a whisper, just in case John didn't really understand what he was agreeing to.

"I do"

"I now pronounce you husbands"

Not wasting another second, Sherlock wrapped his arm around his husband and pulled him flush up against his chest before brushing their lips together for their first kiss as a married couple.

He was fairly certain people were cheering and/or crying but his focus was instead on John and their admittedly salty kiss until the doctor lightly pushed them apart and subconsciously licked his lips, unaware as to how Sherlock tracked his every movement.

And then John was being dragged off by his friends and Sherlock was standing alone at the alter, well, Lestrade was there but he didn't really count, watching as John was nudged in the shoulder by Stamford, or how he was patted on the back another one of his nameless ex-colleagues.

"How does it feel to be married?" Mycroft asked suddenly, distracting Sherlock enough to receive an icy glare from the consulting detective.

"Lestrade, my brother has been trying to advance on you for years now-"

"Sherlock!" Mycroft yelped a little too late, his face a satisfying look of horror as far as Sherlock was concerned.

"Wait- what- really?" Greg asked, his eyes suddenly darting to his borrowed handkerchief as he no doubt thought back to all of the other subtle clues Mycroft had set for him over the years. "Oh.." Ah, there it is.

"Greg, I assure you I can explain-"

And _that_ was Sherlock's cue to leave, he had high hopes for his brother and the detective inspector this evening but that doesn't mean he wants to be stuck in the middle of it.

"Oh, _Sherlock_!" Mrs. Hudson cooed, tears still streaming from her face as she engulfed the detective in a one sided hug while Sherlock reluctantly patted her on the back awkwardly. Congratulatory hugs weren't his... thing.

"Yes, thank you Mrs. Hudson- I must be off now" He said for a lack of anything better to say. That was an appropriate response, was it not?

Shuffling out of her grip, Sherlock gave a stiff bow and moved out amongst the crowd while Mrs. Hudson waved after him with her tissue as if cheering him on in his quest to reach his husband he had momentarily lost sight of.

For such a small wedding, everyone seemed to make it their mission to get in the detective's way, stopping him every few steps for a congratulations or a shout of, "Finally!" until Sherlock sighed in relief upon seeing John off to the side chatting with his sister, Harry.

"John" He greeted, followed by a short, polite, nod to who he knew to be John's sister despite never having actually met her face to face.

"Sherlock! It's so nice to meet you, I'm Harry- see, John!? I told you he was a keeper from the first time I heard you rattle on and on about your first case together" Harriet swung her arm around John's shoulder and immediately Sherlock noticed the uncomfortable twitch John gave in response. Still not on the best of terms, it would seem...

"Yes, hello, mind if I steal John from you?" Sherlock asked politely despite having already gently pulled John out of his sister's grip.

For a moment Harry looked like she was going to protest but then her lips twitched upward into a sly smile. "Ohh, you boys gonna seal the deal as a married couple, are you?" She winked at John and the doctor blushed while Sherlock kept his expression impassive. "Off you go, then!" She shooed, giving John a slap on the ass when he turned around and followed Sherlock's lead away from the crowd.

"Oh, thank god- Harry wouldn't stop asking me about the differences I felt between being with women versus men and how mum and dad are rolling in their graves now that both of their children are gay and-" John was quickly silenced when Sherlock spun around and captured his lips with his own. Harry cheered from several yards away, and suddenly they were both very aware of their current need for privacy.

"Should we take this to the bedroom?" John propositioned, followed by licking his lips in an attempt to taste Sherlock again. It wasn't anywhere near satisfying.

"I- yes" Sherlock decided despite his mind racing over whether or not that was the best idea. Yes, it was, whether anything happened or not, he convinced himself.

After another long look at one another, the two men moved into their vehicle and drove off, leaving their friends behind without so much as a thank you speech. Not that they had expected one.

-0.0-

They were barely through the door when Sherlock grabbed John by the arm to stop him. "Wait, John"

"Hmm?" John asked patiently, his mind clearly elsewhere and having to be drawn back as he turned to look at his husband.

"I want you to know that I understand if you want to back out- at any time"

"Same goes for you, you know"

Taken aback, Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows. "What?" He asked before he could help himself.

"If you don't want to, there's no shame in backing out, Sherlock. I just wanted to make sure you knew that it's also up to you how far we go" John said casually as he shrugged off his suit jacket and folded it over his arm before toeing off his shoes and walking through their now fully furnished, cozy little, home.

It's wasn't exactly the cleanest- particularly the dining room in that sense, what with the dining table covered in Sherlock's experiments, but it was home to the both of them.

After his initial shock, Sherlock closed the door completely and stalked off after his husband who he found in the bedroom, setting his suit jacket gently on the desk.

"John"

"Yes?"

"May I take you to bed?"

John stopped fiddling with his clothes and turned to look at Sherlock, a small smile stretched across his lips.

"I thought you'd never ask"

Slowly, Sherlock walked over to the smaller man and carefully set his hands on the doctor's hips as he gazed at his husband with calculating eyes.

John's breath hitched and suddenly that was all the confirmation Sherlock needed to hear before he bent down and placed a soft, slow kiss upon the doctor's slightly parted lips.

After pulling back, Sherlock rested his forehead against John's and just stood there, allowing their breath's to mingle.

Tentatively, John reached up and held Sherlock's tie loosely before sliding his hands up and undoing the knot so that the material could gently slide through his fingers and onto the floor between them.

Taking that as a go ahead, Sherlock spun them around before gently pushing the doctor onto the bed. John watched nervously as the detective shrugged off his suit jacket and shoes so that he was no longer falling behind in the clothing removal process.

Slowly, Sherlock crawled onto the bed and on top of John, that of whom looked up at him with half lidded, dark blue, eyes and the slightest quirk of a smile.

"Alright so far?" Sherlock asked, smiling when John let out a chuckle.

"Yeah, I think I'm good"

"Good" Sherlock breathed as he leaned down to press his lips to John, his tongue sliding out between them to ask entrance. John immediately complied, groaning as he felt Sherlock's tongue slide up and around his own.

The doctor pulled down on the detective's collared shirt until their bodies were flush up against one another with Sherlock between John's legs.

"Still good?" Sherlock panted as they broke apart, their erections brushing against one another having caused a sudden jolt through him that he hadn't been prepared for.

"If you keep asking me that, we're never going to get anywhere" John pointed out with a teasing smile as he fought to regain his own composure.

"We'll get there in due time" Sherlock huffed, amused at how the roles were reversed and it was now John who was the impatient one. Interesting...

Agonizingly slowly, Sherlock began to undue the button's on John's vest. All the while, Sherlock kept his gaze fixed on John who in return squirmed underneath him.

"Sherlock.. there are less than ten button's on this vest, I hardly think it's necessary to spend an entire minute on each of them" He breathed, his breath now ragged and cheeks flushed with arousal.

"Perhaps not.." Sherlock agreed while pulling John's dress shirt out of his trousers and sneaking his hands underneath to feel the warm skin there while placing a soft kiss on the smaller man's temple.

"You're lucky I don't do the same to you" John warns as he pulls out Sherlock's own dress shirt and undoes the buttons on the detective's vest much timlier than the other had done for him. With a swift, put out motion, John helped remove the article of clothing and flung the vest far off to the other side of the room before beginning to undo the dress shirt buttons.

Sherlock let out a chuckle and then moved to undo the buttons on John's dress shirt, sucking in a sharp breath when it revealed soft, smooth, skin, and the bullet wound he had only ever pictured in his mind up until now. The bullet had clearly gone all the way through, and the light, puckered skin fascinated the detective to no end.

Noticing what Sherlock was staring at, John immediately went to cover the wound.

"John.." Sherlock whispered softly, his hands reaching up to cover John's in a light touch of skin to skin. "Please?" He asked, smiling ever so gently when John blushed and released his grip on the shirt he had pulled over the wound.

After giving John a quick, thankful, kiss to his lips, Sherlock looked back to the bullet wound, his fingers brushing it with just the ghost of a touch which made the doctor under him shutter.

Kissing the scar, Sherlock lifted John's torso and with the doctor's help, removed the vest and dress shirt from his body to go lay upon the floor beside the bed.

Sherlock leaned back to look down at his flushed husband before letting his hands drop down to the doctor's belt and simply rest there, waiting for the go ahead. After receiving a nod, Sherlock quickly unfascened the belt and tossed it aside, followed by the rest of John's clothing.

The detective tried to take a moment to apriciate the doctor but quickly found himself ushered out of his own clothes until they both lie there on the bed, one on top of the other and both half hard already.

After that time seemed to slow as Sherlock and John gently explored each other's bodies for the first time.

It was soft, sweet, and yet somehow unbelievably sexy and nothing like John's last sexual encounter with Moriarty's goons. No, it couldn't even compare- it was perfect.

-0.0-

John's eyes slowly blink open, followed by a yawn and lazily rubbing at his eyes.

He has to do a double take when he feels eyes on him but immediately relaxes when he sees it's just Sherlock calculating the doctor beside him. "Sorry.. I must have fallen asleep.." John deduces as his eyes flicker to the dark skies and suddenly notices how warm Sherlock's body is pressed against his own under the covers.

"...How are you feeling..?" Sherlock asks, his breath ghosting against John's cheek.

John takes a second to think about his answer before breaking out into a smile and kissing Sherlock on the temple.

"Wonderful, absolutely wonderful" He declares, his smile only broadening when Sherlock let his own lips twitch upwards.

"Good, that's.. that's very good" Sherlock breathes after having held his breath for an undetermined amount of time.

"And you.. are you alright?" John asks, his left hand reaching to entertwine with Sherlock's. Their wedding bands glowing in the soft mood light.

"Obviously" Sherlock scoffed, smiling at the way John bit out a sharp, uncontrolled, laugh.

"Right, of course you are.."

"Of course.."

John snuggled up closer to the detective and Sherlock wrapped his arm firmly around the doctor in response.

When it came to ruining Sherlock and John, Moriarty hadn't had a chance.

**-0.0-**

**A/N: That's it folks! Hope you liked it!**


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